


The Want for an Heir

by CinRose, Watchinginthedark



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Childbirth, Explicit Sexual Content, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Omega Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 17:54:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 142,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinRose/pseuds/CinRose, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Watchinginthedark/pseuds/Watchinginthedark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft decides to try for a baby to carry on the Holmes name. Originally, he was going to do things artificially, until things get sticky and a better offer waltzes right into his lap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Of all the things Mycroft Holmes thought would come from trying to fulfil his duty to his family, this was most definitely not one of them. It had started with the realisation that Sherlock would likely never have children, between what his history of drugs had done to his body and the impossible way he danced around John but never  _did_  a single damn thing about it.

Now Mycroft was hidden away in a small room with a high fever listening to shouting and the pounding of walls because of it. The man swallowed thickly, ridding himself of his waistcoat, his jacket already removed, to try to cool down. Well, it wasn’t directly Sherlock’s low chance of having children than had gotten him into this, but it was a factor.

Mycroft had decided, after making the realisation, that it would be up to him to produce an heir. He was an Omega, so he could do it himself without the need of someone else actively playing the part. He was looking into artificial insemination and that’s what he’d been planning to do. It was simple really. Get off the contraceptive, go in to the clinic once his heat started and get pregnant via donor sperm. Except, of course, things had gone wrong.

His heat had started early and with force as of today with no time for him to prepare. There were a large number of Alphas in the building and he had instantly retreated to a hidden room for his own safety when he realised what was happening. Someone had gotten a whiff though and now they were looking for him, their reasonable minds lost to heat lust. It sounded like they were fighting out there. Wiping his forehead, Mycroft tried to relax and waited for something to happen.

DI Lestrade snapped on his own mask after having made sure that ever Alpha on the team had done the same. According to intel an Omega went into sudden heat, causing bloody chaos. To make matters worse, it was Parliament which meant that very important people were caught in that chaos, one of them reportedly dead. He tried not to speculate just who that could be, no he definitely was not going to go there. For all he knew, the brother to the constant pain in his side was out kidnapping poor blokes or in Persia or something like that. God he hoped so.

“The objective is for Team 1 to get the Omega the hell out of there while Team 2 secures the body. Use the gas first then force second, but do not hold back in getting the Omega out of the line of fire.” The mask muffled his voice, made it deep and distorted, but being an Alpha himself, he had to take the same necessary precautions. Once he got the affirmative from his team, Greg slid his finger into the pin of the gas grenade, (a handy little thing that was a mix of sensory blockers and hormone suppressants, the best way to subdue an Alpha in a rut,) then shouldered his way into the building.

His grenade was the first of many to be thrown, each level getting hit by the fogging gas as they marched their way through each level. They worked as a machine, a black swarm of men in uniform with shields and masks, making their way to a distressed Omega. The first levels were cleared out, leaving no mistake as to what room the disturbance came from. Greg halted the team at the door, beyond it they could hear screaming and pounding, then on the count of three they rushed in. The room became a smoke house with the suppressant grenades. It was a few frenzy moments of chaos, everyone tense and anxious to find the Omega, the frenzied Alpha’s all trying to escape.

Greg’s hand hovered above his gun as he made it through the room, eyes frantically searching until he found a lone Alpha banging on a wall. Bingo. Their Omega was safe at least, unless he was trapped with an Alpha behind the door, which was why Greg ran for the suited Alpha and was launching him into the security of his team. His heart was pounding, his lizard hind brain telling him to get to the precious Omega and protect. But he was still in his right mind when he knocked on the wall.

“Sir! This is DI Lestrade. Please open the panic room or give us a sign that you are alright! We have the place secure. You are safe!”

Mycroft listened to the pandemonium outside and found it harder and harder to keep himself under control. A mix of fear and lust was drowning his thought, his heart pounding. Everything was too hot. There was more shouting, things were getting harder to understand. The middle-aged Omega wiped his face with his sleeve and huddled in his chair. He closed his eyes and tried to breath, clutching the armrest with a white knuckled grip. If one of them found the switch, he’d be done for.

He doubted he’d be killed by such an encounter, but it could happen. Especially with the number of Alphas involved. If someone got it, he’d be raped at best. He didn’t want to think about what the worst case scenario would be. There could be quite a few things that could be done to an Omega in heat before they were killed. Mycroft swallowed, loosening his collar. The fear did well to tamp down his arousal for the time being, but if it got much worse, it might even drive him to leave his hiding spot to have an Alpha mate with him. The drive was so much stronger when the Omega was actually fertile. Which he was.

Panting, he shifted in his chair, his trousers damp with his lubricating fluids. Slowly, the sounds seemed to terry off, which confused him, his mind in a slog. He blinked a few times and finally the last of the pounding stopped. Then he heard the voice. Lestrade. Mycroft’s pupils dilated, his animal mind taking him so many different places just from the man’s voice alone. The politician struggled to think rationally. The fear was dying, but he managed to remember protocol. Mycroft stood, going to a place that the DI would hear him.

“DI Lestrade. You have no idea how relieved I am you’re here. But before I open anything, I’d like to request that only one of your team be present when I exit. Preferably you. I don’t trust having multiple people present when I’m in such a state.” He managed, running shaky fingers through his hair but managing to sound quite in control despite everything.

Greg’s stomach flipped when the Omega proved to be none other than Mycroft Holmes. Of all the people… and why the hell did Greg not know that Mycroft was an Omega. With how the man strut around, so sure of himself and radiating dominance, Greg had been sure that Mycroft was an Alpha, but no, he was starting to realise that there had been numerous hints over the years, Greg just hadn’t paid attention. Bloody hell.

“You got it, Sir,” Greg said then motioned for him men to leave. He would handle the situation himself, he couldn’t trust any of his team near a Holmes, especially not in distress. It had the potential of making a bad situation worse. “Higgins, get everyone down stairs. Tell forensics only Betas are allowed up to process the body. Have everyone wear suppressants,” he ordered his second in command before addressing the wall. “Sir, I’d like you to let me in the panic room first. I need to clear it before I can let you out and forensics need to come and clear the scene. I have a mask on, I won’t be a threat. After they clear the area and I clear you out, then I can let you leave the room. I will be your personal escort. It will take time, but you have my word that you will remain safe.”

Mycroft tried to control his breathing, listening to Greg’s words carefully. He was relieved that he was safe, but also rather miffed by the situation. He was so far into his heat now that he wouldn’t be able to go to the clinic without putting himself in danger and that meant he’d have to wait another three months before his next heat came. And he so despised waiting. The man fumbled to find the switch that opened his panic room door. He would barely be safe to be taken to his home. When a fertile Omega on no suppressants went into heat, things like this happened. He hated it. The man made a mental reminder to plan out near his heat so he could go to the clinic early and wait it out until it started. That would still be in three months’ time though. Grumbling, his body still tense, he found the switch.

“Stand back Detective, I’m opening the door.” He told the Alpha on the other side of the wall. The Omega pulled up on the switch and the hidden door swung open out of the wall. The man looked utterly embarrassed to even be in such a condition, much less someone seeing him in it. His clothes were sweat drenched and his skin was flushed, his whole body trembling slightly. Mycroft stayed where he was, backing up a little even as he remembered Greg had to clear out the room first. He kept his eyes on the floor. “I.. I do apologise for this Detective Inspector. It was never my intention to cause so much trouble.” In heat, he couldn’t help by want to try to explain himself, to apologise when he was in the Alpha’s presence.

Greg lifted his hand in a disarming gesture. “You’re fine, Holmes. Things just got a little sticky out there,” he said as he walked into the hidden nook. There wasn’t much to it, it should only take minutes to clear Mycroft safe. Which would be a damn good thing because even with the mask on, Greg’s body was still responding to an Omega in heat right in front of him. The fact that it was Mycroft, who Greg may or may not find attractive on a normal level, was not helping matters. So of course that was when the cosmos decided to prove how much it hated Gregory Lestrade.

His radio cackled at his side with Higgins yelling a warning seconds before the Alpha that had been crowding the wall burst back into the main office. The middle aged man was a right mess, blood dripping down his wrist from where he must have fought against restraints, but their wasn’t much an Alpha wouldn’t do to get to a wet and ready Omega. Acting on pure instinct, Greg pushed Mycroft behind him then slammed his hand on the switch to close the door of the panic room. The Alpha hit the door just as it closed, his inaudible yells just barely making it through the thick door. Mycroft was safe, but that meant that Greg was trapped in a small room with the man during his heat. “Son of a bitch!” The radio was in his hand in a second.

“The bloody hell was that?” he yelled over the radio, the mask doing nothing to make him sound less frightening.

“I’m sorry Sir, the Alpha got away from us. It won’t happen again.”

“The fuck it won’t happen again! We are not leaving this building until every Alpha is out of the vicinity. Do you hear me! Do not even come near that door until you have the area clear and an armed escort ready for Mr Holmes to get out of here and into an Omega safe clinic. Understood?” Greg barely stopped himself from throwing the two way radio against the wall then remembered that he needed to calm himself down. He scrubbed a hand through the hairs at the nape of his neck then turned to face Mycroft. “Are you alright?”

Mycroft’s heart was pounding when the other Alpha charged towards them. He knew the man, they had tea sometimes and discussed various politics in a civilized manner. It was amazing what biology could do to a person. He backed up, pressing himself to the far wall when Greg was suddenly in front of him, slamming down on the switch and shutting the door in just the nick of time. He tried to control his breathing, this time failing, his breaths coming out in shuddering pants.

Once the danger was removed and his panic settled down, things became very different. The first thing he noticed was Greg’s Alpha scent. He’d always enjoyed being around the man, he was attractive and had a sharp scent that Mycroft enjoyed. Now though, with his heat under way, that scent was perfectly tantalizing and filled the small room. Mycroft swallowed, continuing to pant slightly. From the sound of it, they would be here for a little while.

The Omega grazed his eyes over Greg’s form and felt his pulse spike. But he shook his head inwardly. He couldn’t have sex with Greg. He was supposed to be trying to get pregnant and getting the man to fuck him would… get him pregnant. Actually… Mycroft wet his lips. Gregory Lestrade would be the perfect sperm donor for his prospective heir. The man had all the right genes going for him that would complement Mycroft’s nicely. And, having sex with an Alpha would stave off his heat until he could get somewhere safe. The politician swallowed again, walking a little closer to the man. He could work with this.

“Yes.. yes of course. I’m.. I’m fine. Mostly. Admittedly, things are getting a little difficult. You… smell fantastic Detective.” Step One, use your heat to your advantage, make it seem like you’re on the edge, which you are. Admit that he’s affecting you.

The whole fiasco had Greg’s heart pounding in his breath and the mask started to become a stifling nuisance. He turned around in the room, assessing the walls while sweat trickled down the back of his neck and under his collar. It was too damn hot in the room and he wanted nothing more than to rip it off and breathe in fresh air but it was the only thing keeping him from full out attacking Mycroft and claiming that pert arse for his own, so the mask stayed on. How the situation could get worse, he would like to know. And then Mycroft was right there, in his face… and saying things he really shouldn’t. So yes, the situation could indeed get worse.

Subconsciously his hand went to the buckle the bound the mask while he tried to create some distance between him and Mycroft. “Okay. Um,” Greg licked his lips behind the mask, his mind rallying against the injustice of not being able to lick the Omega’s scent right off the air. He bet Mycroft was so wet with it. So needy for an Alpha’s thick, long… Greg squeezed the back of his neck hard and practically threw himself against the far wall. It still didn’t create enough space between them. “Just… we got to wait this out, Holmes. You go to the wall over there and I’ll stay right here, nice and cosy, yeah? It won’t take long for a crew to get things clear then you’ll be on your way to a clinic, or wherever you get through your heats.”

Mycroft’s brows furrowed as he made it look like he was trying to fight off the hormones. He looked nervous, the sweat and flushed skin only adding to it. He could do this easily and just rip Greg’s mask off, but that would be cause for suspicion afterward from Greg. No, he could do this with much more tact. The man wet his lips again and let the tremble he was experiencing take hold of his body. He looked up at Greg, worry in his eyes.

“Detective, my heat’s progressing rather quickly. I deal with my heats at home. There could be any range of variables that could.. get involved. I’m worried that I may attract unwanted attention anyway. And your scent is only making it worse, no offense to you. It’s just making things progress faster and I’m not exactly comfortable either…” Mycroft shifted, swallowing audibly and pacing a little. His fever was getting higher and he wanted to remove the rest of his clothes badly, noticeably tugging at them. He wiped his face with his sleeve before unbottoning the top buttons of his shirt. “Do forgive me Detective, the fabric is becoming increasingly irritating, but I’m trying.” Step Two, appear worried and uncomfortable. Invoke a sense of protectiveness in the Alpha.

Greg knew he was well and buggered when instead of staying pressed against the wall and reciting folk music his mum would sing in his head, he was in Mycroft’s personal space with a hand on his shoulder to sooth him. “Hey, it’s alright. You’re…” Greg’s throat constricted and a horrified sound escaped in a strangled keen. Even with the mask on he could now detect the unique pheromones of the Omega right there in his space, his nostrils flaring to try and breathe in more of it. He had been half hard already but now his cock was taking a definite interest in the proceedings. “…going to be alright.”

Greg felt the shift in his own mind, the protective cop giving way to the protective Alpha. What had he been thinking? There was Mycroft, in full blown heat and his body begging to be bred, he was probably aching with the need to relief, and Greg had been denying him? While he would argue with Sherlock that he did have a working brain, he kicked himself then for not thinking about Mycroft properly.

“I’ll take care of you,” he promised gruffly, his hand sliding over Mycroft’s chest to undo a few more buttons to help free him of the constricting fabric a bit. The hand at his neck was thumbing at the buckle, but he managed to still himself from removing the mask for now. “We’ll get you comfortable and then home. Or… the clinic.” Neither seemed like a good idea any more but he was still on duty and a good cop. He wasn’t going to let biology break him just yet. “I’ll keep you safe. I promise. Won’t let any Alphas you don’t want touching you.”

Mycroft’s breath hitched when Greg touched him, barely able to hold back a needy whimper. He tried to take longer breaths, but they were shuddering and his legs seemed wobbly. The man swiped him tongue across his lips again, taking a deep breath and inhaling Greg’s scent. He kept himself together though. He was being tactful. If he fell apart right now, it would be to obvious. The Omega bit his lip, making a soft noise as he tried to readjust himself in his trousers. He was hard and wet and his body was starting to ache from the fever, his skin becoming more flushed. He closed his eyes, feeling Greg’s rough hands over his buttons, giving him a little relief.

“I don’t doubt your ability, Gregory.” He murmured, his breath heated. “I’m just worried. My heat is only going to attract attention if it remains untended to, especially under these circumstances. I need relief. It’s becoming very difficult with you here with me. Your scent is utterly amazing and if the state of your trousers is anything to go by, I’m affecting you despite that mask of yours. Perhaps it would be safer if you helped me now. Just as help. Sex would lower my pheromone levels and draw less attention to me when we leave. It would be for the best.” He refrained from touching Greg, but couldn’t seem to help gazing over him, oddly enough, picking out the features that he hoped would be passed on to a child.

“It wouldn’t need to end up as a bond and I’m on birth control.” He lied smoothly. About the latter of course. “Just as a service. I so very much need it. I don’t think I can manage being in here for much longer like this. Please.” Step Three, put out the option. Ask for it. Let the Alpha know you want it, but don’t push the boundaries yourself. He needs to be the one to make the first move.

It was the promise of birth control that did it. Greg growled in the back of his throat and snaked his hand under the open portion of Mycroft’s shirt to touch bare skin. He was hot to the touch, burning up from the fever. It’s been a while since Greg mated with an Omega, but he still remembered the basics. He knew what the fever meant and how if it went unchecked it could start to shut down the body. Heats weren’t all sex and fun, an Omega could suffer real damage if they weren’t tended to and Greg would never forgive himself if he let that happen to Holmes.

“It’s just sex,” he said with a nod, not heeding the fact that he harbored more than a passing attraction for Holmes or that it was hardly ever just sex with him, but he, when was his life ever constant. He ran his hand down Mycroft’s chest until he reached fabric then slipped his hand down the seat of Mycroft’s trousers to palm at his bum. The fabric scratched uncomfortably against his skin until he reached warm, damp fabric, pulling a growling moan from him. Mycroft was so wet. So needy for it. Without a second thought he was ripping away the mask. He needed to scent Mycroft. He needed to bury himself in the man’s pheromones. He felt like he might burst if he didn’t.

“Oh dear God,” he moaned at the first hit of Mycroft’s cloying pheromones once the mask was off, his silver hair left in wild tufts. Every little concern he had was gone and nothing else mattered except for the unbound Omega that desperately needed Greg’s cock up his arse.

Mycroft let out a pitiful noise when Greg finally started touching him, getting small amounts of relief from the Alpha’s ministration, but not nearly enough. And then, suddenly Greg’s hand was in his trousers, on his arse. He was already so wet and he was sure Greg could feel that, the hungry growl confirming it. Then he pulled off the mask and Mycroft could watch the change, the man’s pupils blown wide, his expression changing. Once Mycroft was sure Greg was thoroughly affected by his own intoxicating scent, he reached out and pulled Greg to him, needing contact. He pressed himself against the Alpha, his own mind slowly forgetting his reasons behind it and just wanting Greg to fuck him stupid. He scented Greg’s neck where the scent was strongest.

“Can we hurry?” He murmured, trying to keep the need out of his voice. “I need this so badly. Please Gregory.” He pleaded. His skin was hot and his thighs were wet and sticky in his trousers and all he wanted was to be taken, filled and bred. His animal brain needed it and it needed it now. Mycroft nipped at Greg’s ear. He didn’t care about the DI’s clothing. Lestrade could undo his zip, pull down his pants and fuck him fully clothed for all the Omega cared. His own clothing was getting utterly annoying though. He tugged the rest of his shirt off, the last few buttons dropping to the floor as they were popped off. His slid the offending garment off and pressed himself roughly against Greg’s covered erection.

Greg’s eyes fluttered closed when a strong hit of Mycroft’s scent wafted up once the shirt was removed. Next he knew he had Mycroft pressed against the wall, his hands pinned to the side with his nose pressed right in the crook of Mycroft’s neck where his scent was so sweet, so rich. He growled at the back of his throat like a beast then grazed his teeth over Mycroft’s thrumming pulse, but not hard enough to break the skin and incite a bond. Just enough to make Mycroft aware of exactly who and what he was alone with.

“And if I don’t want to hurry?” He asked darkly before licking a stripe up Mycroft’s neck. He tasted just as good as he smelled; the burst of sweat and something sweet on his tongue making his cock pulse with need. “What if I want to take my time with you?” He nibbled up Mycroft’s neck to his chin, this time biting a little harder than necessary. “Strip you down and turn you around. Bury my face in your juices. Yeah.” He bit hard at Mycroft’s collar bone then let go to get his hands on Mycroft’s belt. “Maybe I’ll just throw you on the ground and take you. Maybe I’ll draw it out until you’re screaming for it.” He smashed their lips together in a bruising kiss while his hands tore away belt then ripped open Mycroft’s flies, desperate to get his prize.

Usually he would have scoffed at Greg taking control, but not right now. Right now he was an Omega with the need to submit and be taken. The DI’s words when straight to his cock and he felt a warm gush of even more fluid in his trousers that came with his climbing arousal. He leaned his head back, letting Greg taste him fully as he panted. The teeth against his skin made him jolt, but Greg only teased. Bonding didn’t seem to be a threat. If Mycroft started to suspect it might, the first thing he would do would be to jam his shirt between Greg’s teeth. He just hoped it wouldn't come to that. His shivered with need, nodding.

“Do…do what you want. But God, I just need something. Pin me down, make be scream, fuck me into the floor until we both have carpet burns, I don’t care. Just do something.” He whimpered. Mycroft Holmes was not a patient man who was used to getting what he wanted and now was no different. He just hoped he could entice Greg to taking his side of things. “Please, just fill me.” He begged, saying things only his heat could make him say. He hungrily pushed into the rough kiss, hips pressing into Greg’s hands as he undressed him. Right now, it was just need, need, need and Mycroft was fully submitting to it.

Greg broke the kiss as soon as he had Mycroft’s trousers open. Roughly grabbing at the man’s hips, he spun Mycroft around and pushed him up against the wall face first. “‘S alright, you’ll get what you need,” he promised then started trailing biting kisses down Mycroft’s freckled back. He pushed down Mycroft’s trousers as he went lower, then finally fell to his knees. He had to grab hold of his own cloth covered cock to release some of the pressure when Mycroft’s scent hit him with full force. “Oh Christ you smell so good.” He rubbed his face against the soaking wet pants in a bid to cover himself with Mycroft’s scent. He wanted to roll in it, bathe himself in it. Make the world know who belonged to him. It was a heady sensation of power, to have the British Government up against the wall and begging Greg to knot and breed him. Mycroft may be claimed to be the most dangerous man you’ll ever meet if anyone listened to Sherlock, but right then Greg had him at his mercy.

When neither of them could wait much longer, Greg yanked down the pants and went straight to burying his face between Mycroft’s cheeks, his hands kneading into the firm flesh of Mycroft’s bum to pull the cheeks apart so Greg could get his mouth right at Mycroft’s hole. he made the most obscene sounds as he licked and sucked at the heated flesh and not giving a God damn about it.

Mycroft let himself be manoeuvred, bracing himself against the wall with his hands, just wanting to grind his arse back into Greg’s crotch, which he tried to do. His trousers pooled around his ankles as the DI pulled them down and the man moaned as he felt Greg’s face against his buttocks, getting the feeling he knew where this was going and liking that direction. He whined a little as Greg took his time.

“Gregory please. I need you.” He begged, pushing back a little more. Suddenly his pants were gone, the air cool around the wet, exposed parts of his body. Mycroft gasped at the sensation as his smaller, but swollen cock prodded the air as it was released. But the chill was quickly forgotten when suddenly Greg’s face was in his arse, his hands spreading his cheeks. Mycroft moaned, making utterly obscene noises as Greg lapped at his wet, needy hole. The Omega pressed back into the stimulation, whimpering and whining like the needy bitch in heat he was. He bit his lip and moaned deeply into his own mouth. Greg’s tongue felt amazing but he was being consumed by the need for something more. Something bigger and blunter to take him and fill him. He needed a knot. But Greg would do what he pleased with him and all Mycroft could do was moan and whimper with needy pleasure.

Greg could eat Mycroft out for hours if it wasn’t for the fact that his cock was ready to burst through his flies. Even so, he took a few greedy moments of just licking him open before folding his tongue into a point and plunging it as deep inside of Mycroft’s body as it would go. His grip tightened on Mycroft’s buttocks as he was enveloped in velvety heat, his face pressed so hard against Mycroft’s bare skin that he couldn’t breathe, but that was alright with him.

But he only indulged for a minute or so until he own need was burning in his veins. He pulled away with a sharp gasp, the sudden space between them unbearable. Greg shot to his feet then plastered his front against Mycroft’s back, his mouth at Mycroft’s neck. “Gonna fuck you so good, love. Gonna fill that belly up.” In between his words he trailed kisses across Mycroft’s shoulder while grinding his burgeoning erection against his bare arse. One hand rubbed circles into Mycroft’s hip, the other splayed possessively over Mycroft’s soft, flat belly. He wasn’t capable of rational thought, only capable of thinking about fucking the Omega beneath him, of bonding and breeding. He couldn’t even imagine the kids, just knew that he wanted to fill Mycroft up with them. “Tell me how bad you want that. Come on, Myc,” he ground his hips in a slow circle, letting Mycroft feel exactly what he was about to get. “Beg for my seed.”

Mycroft keened as Greg rimmed him, resting his forehead against the wall as he panted and moaned. His body trembled as Greg’s tongue pillaged his sensitive, wet pucker. He felt like he was going to explode. He needed so much more than this, but this felt so utterly amazing he didn’t want it to stop. He whimpered when it finally did end, but was instantly accommodated when the DI rubbed against him, giving him a feel of his Alpha cock though his trousers. Mycroft’s breath shuddered. Greg was huge. He ground his backside into the man’s crotch, trying to get some sort of relief.

“God, yes. Gregory please. Take me, knot me, fill me with your seed and breed me. Breed me hard and make me round. Fill me up. Please, I need you to fuck me so badly. I need your cock up my arse, pounding into me. Please.” He moaned, pleading every step of the way, wanting the hard cock pressing against him deep inside him to breed him, to fill him and make him heavy with child. He had never needed to be bred so much in his life. “For God’s sake, take me!” He was panting hard and everything strained. He needed Greg in him and he needed him now.

The whorish words falling from such a posh mouth damn near broke Greg. With a strained moan, he pushed himself away to get his fucking clothes off right that bloody minute. His didn’t bother with his shirt and vest, just kicked off his shoes and tore down trousers and pants in one go the flinging them across the room. He gave Mycroft barely enough room to free his legs before Greg was pressed up against the, the course fabric of his vest scratching against Mycroft’s skin.

He rocked onto the tips of his toes to push his cock through the hot slick that leaked from Mycroft’s body, groaning when the head of his cock brushed against Mycroft’s hole. But something didn’t fit right in his head. He didn’t want to take Mycroft like a bitch. He wanted to watch the man fall apart beneath him. “Turn around,” he growled, pushing and prodding at Mycroft even though he wasn’t making it easy for the Omega, plastered against him as he was. “Want to see your face when I plug you with my knot and breed you.”

Mycroft moan wantonly as he felt Greg’s bare cock against his arse. The man pushed back hungrily, blinking in confusion when Greg told him to turn around. He groaned when he heard the reason though and struggled, turning around and pressed himself flush against Greg. How were they going to do this? Mycroft wasn’t sure he had the patience to be taken down to the floor. No, if Greg wanted to see his face, he could fuck him against the wall. The Omega pulled them back, his back pressed against the wall to brace himself. He then pushed his hips forward, panting. The politician pulled Greg roughly to him, kissing him and rutting against the man’s cock.

“For God’s sake, Gregory, fuck me!” He moaned, raking his fingered over the DI’s back. “Fill me to the brim and fuck me like the Omega I am.” He was getting desperate and when he got desperate, he got demanding. The man nipped at Greg’s neck to encourage him as he continued to rut. “I need something up my arse now and if it isn’t your cock in the next twenty seconds, I’m fucking myself on a chair leg.” He hissed. He really didn’t want to resort to a chair leg. A chair couldn’t get him pregnant. A chair was quite obviously Not Greg.

Greg would have laughed if he didn’t find Mycroft’s bossiness so bloody hot. He surged up to bite at Mycroft’s neck, wrong side to initiate a bond but enough to sate something in the back of his mind. Then he was pushing Mycroft up along the wall, urging him to wrap those long legs of his around Greg’s waist. The slide of Mycroft’s small cock against his belly made him shudder as the sliver of precum left on his skin cooled in the air between their heated bodies.

“God yes. Everything you want. Whatever you want. Just…” Greg tipped Mycroft up a bit more, pulled at his hips and then he was right there, pushing right at Mycroft’s hole. With a slam of his hips he was finally in, wrapped tight in Mycroft’s slick, clenching heat. A high, broken keen filled the air but Greg was too far gone to notice that it came from him. All that mattered was that he was balls deep in his Omega and that he could feel the pressure at the base of his cock. He was so ready to knot it wasn’t even funny.

Mycroft gasped as Greg bit at his throat, leaning heavily against the wall for support as he wrapped his legs around the DI’s waist and crossed his ankles at the small of Greg’s back. He then wrapped his arms around Greg’s shoulders to steady himself. His cock was pressed between them as they shifted, making him moan. But not as much as when Greg slid into him. Now that made him groan loudly, his head tilted back as he was impaled by Greg’s hard cock, his muscles tightening around the intrusion. He twisted a little, grinding down with Greg’s movements until the Alpha was buried inside him completely. Perfection. Mycroft loved the full, tight feeling as he clenched around Greg’s prick.

“G-Gregory, move. Please.” He whined, trying to press himself up and down with little avail. He wasn’t at the best of angles to do it himself. “I need you, now fuck me.” He squeezed his muscles tightly again to try to get him moving as sweat coated his skin.

“As you wish,” Greg choked against the freckled skin of Mycroft’s shoulder. He pressed a sloppy kiss over where he bit then pulled away, his fingers tightening on Mycroft’s hips. His eyes were fever bright as he stared at Mycroft’s face while he pulled his hips back then slammed home. He refused to look away as he did it again, then again, swiftly building to a punishing rhythm that rocked Mycroft against the wall with each thrust.

If he thought he was over heating before, he was on fire now. Each slide deep inside Mycroft’s body, each time the Omega’s hole ground against the growing knot Greg felt as if fire erupted under his skin. They were covered in a sheen of sweat, the air thick with their combined pheromones and the slick sound of bodies in the heat of things. It was perfect, almost too perfect. He wanted to bite and bond, then knot and fill. Make Mycroft truly his and get him fat with Greg’s children.

But instead he kept his eyes locked on Mycroft’s even if it meant grinding his teeth together. His jaw ached with the need to bite down on the supple flesh of Mycroft’s neck, it would make knotting so much easier, but something in the back of his mind reminded him that it was only sex. He would brood about it later. Right then it was all about driving the knot inside Mycroft’s willing body and come.

Mycroft was taken apart as Greg thrust into him roughly, giving him exactly what he desired. His hands clenched against Greg’s skin as he was fucked hungrily by the Alpha. Mycroft couldn’t even find words. Greg’s knot was slowly swelling with each thrust and pleasure was bounding through him, Greg prodding his prostate every few strokes. He was babbling, all animal, encompassed in a wild, needy, primal fuck. Their grunts and moans and the rapid smacking of flesh on flesh filled the air. Their scents mingled it heated passion. Mycroft curled into Greg, trying to get every ounce of contact he could. He clenched tightly around Greg as a small orgasm rippled through him. There was likely something bigger that lay ahead.

The man whimpered, focusing on every inch of Greg’s long Alpha cock inside him. His Omega side was screaming in pleasure, needy and hungry to be filled with Greg’s seed. Eager to conceive. Mycroft had little doubt they wouldn’t. Omegas in heat often would be pregnant by the first round of sex if they weren’t on contraceptives. He fell into that category.

Mycroft pressed down as best he could, meeting the Alpha’s thrusts. His head was tilted back and his eyes were mostly closed as he panted and moaned as Greg ravished him, plunging into him. Mycroft could tell they wouldn’t last long. The first round of a heat never did. He remembered, a bit sadly, that this would be the only round and then he would be taken home. The risk of him being attacked again significantly lower. He moaned again, long and loud as Greg rammed into his prostate, and made him see stars.

Greg grunted when Mycroft clenched around him on a low groan and he finally gave himself in. He pushed Mycroft into the wall and held him there long enough to get his hands wrapped around Mycroft’s shoulders, bringing their chests fully together. Even through the thick vest he could still feel the heat rolling off of Mycroft’s skin, even though he thoroughly regretted not getting naked. But he didn’t let himself dwell too much on that and instead redoubled his efforts in ramming his knot through and locking them.

“God you feel so good. Wanna take you home and fuck you through your heat. You won’t be able to move without my help, I’d fuck you so good.” With his face pressed against Mycroft’s neck, the words tumbled out breathlessly to distract him from the urge to bite. He was starting to ache too, a burn spreading down his thighs from the exertion, but he was right there. Right fucking there. “You’ll never even look at another Alpha again, I’d keep you so satisfied. We’d…” He never got a chance to finish for the next sound was a strangled yell as his knot finally popped through the tight resistance and his orgasm ripped through him like a freak storm. He barely had the mind to pull him mouth away from Mycroft’s neck, instead burying his yell against the man’s sweaty chest and riding out the sharp, blinding pleasure/ pain of coming inside an Omega.

Mycroft gripped Greg’s vest for dear life as the thrusts got shorter and faster, Greg not pushing in fully as his knot swelled and Mycroft’s tight hole resisted. He was so close. The Omega buried his face into Greg’s shoulder, panting deeply as he got thoroughly shagged by the cop. He listened to Greg’s words, almost wishing they could happen, and letting them bring him closer and closer.

And then suddenly, he was being split apart, his head thrown back and hitting the wall, but he barely noticed. Greg’s knot spread him apart, locking them together and Mycroft came hard, ruining Greg’s vest and making a mess of his own stomach. His muscles clenched tightly around the Alpha’s cock, milking him as much as possible. Which was a lot. Greg just came and came and came inside him. Mycroft had almost forgotten Alphas did that. And Greg would continue to come until his knot deflated. Mycroft’s vision blurred for a moment, but he began to feel his skin cool, the man’s knot calming his heat some. He panted, regaining his breath as he rested his throbbing head on Greg’s shoulder. He mind grasped for words but found nothing for the time being. Greg should probably sit down somewhere. They’d be knotted together for a while.

Greg yelled until his throat was raw, then he just whimpered as one orgasm after another was forced out of him. The adrenaline that sang in his veins moments ago quickly drained out of him, leaving him weak and shaking but Mycroft’s body still milked him of his seed, greedily taking every last drop. Eventually he could barely keep them upright, having Mycroft practically squashed against the wall. In a few more minutes he was going to collapse.

“Gonna…” Greg whimpered and twitched like he had been electrocuted when another orgasm rocked through him. He ground his face against Mycroft’s shoulder and panted through it. “Gonna lower us down. Keep your legs wrapped around me.” At Mycroft’s affirmative he slowly slid them down until he was seated on the floor, half on top of discarded clothes with Mycroft still locked in his lap. He kept his arms wrapped around Mycroft while slumping against the wall. It was cool against his feverish forehead and provided a small comforted when another, blissfully weaker, climax rolled through him. Shouldn’t be much longer.

Mycroft helped as best he could to lower them, settling himself in Greg’s lap. His breathing started to slow down as did his heart rate. The Omega sighed and winced, the burn of Greg’s cock still inside him starting to overtaking the pleasure. The Alpha continued to spurt inside him and Mycroft clamped down often, trying to get every last drop. It was best to get as much as he could, seeing as he was trying for a baby. He leaned back a little, his stomach sticky and pulled a face as he looked down at the mess.

“You’re going to want to take your vest off.” He murmured hoarsely, feeling weary. His head was throbbing from where he’d hit it against the wall. The man hesitantly reached back and felt the beginnings of a goose egg forming. Lovely. Swallowing, he grit his teeth. He was still warm and filled with cum, which was going to have to stay there for a while if he wanted to conceive. “Well… that was fairly mind blowing actually…” He admitted quietly, glancing up at the Alpha. “Thank you.” He sighed, rolling his shoulders. He was still achy, even more so after being well shagged against a wall.

Greg groaned despairingly as his mental facilities started to return. Oh he was so bloody screwed. “Yeah. Ah fuck.” He knocked the side of his head against the wall before looking at Mycroft’s but he couldn’t meet the man’s eyes. Suddenly wincing at another weak orgasm that left him sore and his stomach cramping didn’t help in that matter. “Fuck, Mycroft. I’m so sorry. I should have been above that.” Even though Mycroft had asked Greg for this, guilt still crashed through him like a black wave ready to pull him down. He should have taken the higher ground. There were Alphas for Omegas in spontaneous heats for fuck’s sake. He should have thought with his brain and not his bloody cock.

“It’s alright, Gregory. I’m as much to blame as you are. I asked for this after all.” He replied quietly. “I apologise as well though. I shouldn’t have provoked you like I did. I just wasn’t thinking properly.” Mycroft paused, sighing. “But… perhaps we should keep our distance for a while… You almost bonded with me on numerous occasions. I do respect your restraint though. It looked as though it was terribly difficult.” The Omega tried to relax a little. All had gone as planned… so why did he feel down about it? It was almost enough to make him tell Greg about his lie and apologise. But no, he couldn’t do that. He really had little interest in a bond as well. Greg’s seed was probably sowing itself in his womb right that very moment. He couldn’t say anything though. Greg was just a sperm donor, nothing more. “We should just try to forget about this.” He said quietly, not meeting Greg’s eyes like Greg couldn’t meet his.

Greg nodded through a tremor then finally, thank God, he felt his knot deflate. “Yeah, probably for the best,” he conceded while internally kicking himself. He was damn glad he had some restraint because forcing a bond with Mycroft Holmes would probably have resulted in him turning up in the Thames. He groaned when he finally slipped free of Mycroft’s body, then winced when he felt a copious amount of slick slide over his skin. They were going to need showers and new cloths and… Oh God. He heard his radio cackle and he wanted to end himself.

“Sir, is the show over?” Higgins came over the radio along with snickering. Yep, that was the end of his dignity. The only saving grace he had left was that at least he couldn’t get Mycroft pregnant. That and it had been the best shag of his life. Best not dwell on that bit. “Oh yeah… I’m all for forgetting this. Let me know how that works for ya, yeah?”

Mycroft pushed away from him, clenching his muscles tightly to hold in Greg’s seed while he stood on wobbly legs. He cleaned himself up with a tissue box and just smiled a little at the Alpha as he stiffly put his clothes on. He swallowed thickly. “Thank you, Detective. I think my heat has subsided enough that I can take care of myself.  I can get another escort if needed. I hope things go well for you.” He told the cop quietly before dressing adequately and opening the panic room door once Greg was decent, leaving the other man behind.

Once home, Mycroft, inserted a plug, changed into some more comfortable clothes and propped his feet up on several pillows. Tamping down the odd guilt he felt, Mycroft remembered it was for a good cause. He was carrying on the Holmes name. But.. that just didn’t seem good enough. Under no circumstance could Greg find out his reasons. Sighing, the man shut his eyes and dozed off, eventually falling asleep. It had been a long day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four months later, Mycroft’s pregnant, Greg his “sperm donor”. That is, until Greg finds out. Then Mycroft has some explaining to do.

Greg held the door open for Sherlock and John, immediately launching into the details. “Abigail Jones, age 26, relations in Soho. According to her employer she left work at the usual time saying she might meet some friends for dinner. She never showed up. A friend came to check up on her saying Miss Jones hasn’t been feeling tip top and this is what she found. There’s no sign of a struggle, no evidence of a break in. She’s the third woman to be found dead in their flat in the past three months, around the same age, general vicinity, though in this case we can’t figure out what killed her.”

The scene wasn’t particularly grisly, young woman of average height and build found dead lying on her sofa with a puddle of sick beneath her. The flat was done in muted, feminine tones, not overly garish. But there was still something about it that had Greg on the edge. He knew why he had been a right bastard at the other two crime scenes and was beginning to get that tight, sickening knot of dread in the pit of his stomach on this one. It was already a long day.

Sherlock simply nodded and went over to the body, examining it carefully and quietly as usually, little magnifying glass in hand. The younger Holmes frowned and beckoned John over, asking his companion to tell him what he saw as a doctor, carefully listening to his input. He looked to Lestrade. “Have the vomit tested for any foreign substances, though I doubt you’ll find anything. Whoever did this was a good bit cleverer than you lot.” He commented, turning back to the body and observing her once more, eyes flicking, searching for something he’d missed. Suddenly, he stopped and his nose twitched. Familiar. He scented her again, blocking out the cloying scent of death before rolling back on his heels.

“She’s pregnant. About two months. I wouldn’t even be able to tell if it weren’t for Mycroft being insufferable and coming by on a regular basis..” He said, mostly to John, before turning to Lestrade. “Lestrade, were the last two victims expecting as well? If so, that might give us some insight. There is a chance that whoever has been killing them is targeting pregnant Omegas and has figured out a way to kill them with an unknown substance. Something that probably works with their condition. Something that the killer made themselves and has been testing. Which would explain why the last two attempts weren’t as clean as this one. He’s perfected it. Since there’s no puncture mark anywhere, it was likely ingested. Run an analysis on her hormones, I get the feeling they’re linked to how the toxin works.” Sherlock told the DI in his usual manner.

Greg’s stomach dropped at the mention of the victim being a pregnant Omega and that yes, there probably was a serial killer out there targeting them. There went his bloody day. “Christ. Yeah the first victim was three months in, the second four or five.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to think of the cases and not his tremendous need for coffee and a smoke. “I’ll have their medical histories checked. See if they’re going to the same clinic or something. Try and find a link,” he said distractedly, wondering who the fuck would poison pregnant Omegas when the other half of what Sherlock said caught up to him and it felt like his stomach suddenly shot up into his throat.

“Wait, what’s that you said about Mycroft? What did you mean?” Greg spent the past four months trying to forget the older Holmes, which had been a crap plan in the first place. Between his own damn subconscious and the constant ribbing from the boys at the station, he could barely get through a day without thinking of the Omega. To hear his name at a crime scene did nothing for his already jumbled nerves.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at Greg’s askance about his brother. “Mycroft’s pregnant. He’s in his second trimester. I wouldn’t have noticed the woman’s change in scent at two months pregnant if it weren’t for the fact that brother dearest is with child himself and has annoyingly been around enough for me to notice his own steady scent change. He’s utterly intolerable while pregnant. He claims that he did it via artificial insemination with an anonymous sperm donor, but I’m still convinced he slept with someone.” John hissed at him, giving him a look.

“What, it’s true. Do you really believe he got that bump on the back of his head after the skirmish at his office over that Omega? Unless the Omega was him and he had sex with someone, he’d have been ignored and would have never gotten it. I won’t stand down in thinking he slept with someone to get pregnant. It doesn’t matter if he’s ‘doing this for the sake of the family’, if he had been given the chance to become pregnant without the fuss of clinic work, he would have taken it.” The younger Holmes told John, looking annoyed. This was obviously a conversation they’d had before and were still at odds about.

Greg’s always heard of people experiencing a sense of vertigo and everything slowing down, the senses going numb and things like that when they’re hit with hard news or a particularly bad revelation. He never experienced anything like that before, not even when he first found out about his (now ex) wife’s cheating. But he definitely knew what those people had been talking about right then. When the other shoe dropped it was like everything fell away, the only thing he could hear was Sherlock rambling on, each word a punch to the gut, and he felt a cold, nauseating numbness.

Once the room stopped spinning, he swallowed roughly, worked his jaw back and forth to unhinge it then took a few deep breaths. He didn’t have all the facts, (well, he did but he was trying real hard to not acknowledge the sinking, knowing feeling,) so he shouldn’t jump to conclusions but… Fuck it, there was no way he was wrong in thinking that Mycroft was pregnant with his kid.

“I got to make a phone call,” he said, or something to that extent then was practically running for the police taped door. “Clements, make sure that Holmes doesn’t run off with evidence!” He nearly did himself in trying to duck beneath the tape before Donovan could get the chance to lift it up for him but all that mattered was getting out in the open air. A few called after him but eventually he was left alone. He probably looked like a beast which would explain why a few green cadets all but jumped out of his way.

When he was finally outside he whipped out his mobile, noting that his hands were shaking. He almost dialled the PM trying to scroll up to Mycroft’s number but managed to push the button without incident. He wasn’t aware of it ringing, didn’t notice a damn thing until he heard a click that was either it going to voice mail or someone picking up, but that lone little click ignited something explosive in him. “When the hell were you going to tell me?!”

Mycroft Holmes had had an odd four months thus far. He’d conceived without a hitch and had gotten on with his life. Sure there were some snags. The morning sickness hadn’t been the least bit pleasant and he wasn’t too fond of how he’d had to change his diet either, working to gain weight instead of losing it. He got emotional sometimes, but that was always something he’d managed to keep to himself. He didn’t have time for mood swings. He still had a position to hold despite being pregnant. Recently, the worst of the hormones had balanced out, but not completely. Lately he’d been suffering from heart burn on a regular basis. His clothes no longer fit now either. He’d started showing about two weeks ago and had had to have new clothes tailored to his changing form. Honestly, he’d actually already grown a little attached to the tiny being inside him, but only showed his fondness in the privacy of his home. He had a reputation to uphold. But, all in all, things were going smoothly.

So when he got a phone call from Gregory Lestrade, the man went pale. They’d agreed to keep their distance. Why was he calling him now? Was it an emergency? Had something happened to Sherlock? The Omega almost didn’t want to pick up, but he couldn’t take that risk. If it was urgent, he needed to pick up. However, when he did, he instantly regretted it. Greg was furious. And he knew. Mycroft’s mouth went dry. Maybe he could bluff his way around this.

“Gregory, calm down. What on Earth are you talking about?” He asked, it was a fitting question, even if he wasn’t able to avoid the inevitable of Greg finding out he was carrying his child. The DI could actually be talking about something completely different for all he knew.

Greg tipped his head back to take large, heaving breaths to try and quell the rage that burned him up. It was surprisingly easy to do so though, whether it was Mycroft’s order to calm down or the cool air, Greg didn’t know. He could be over reacting; he did that sometimes, definitely did when he found out about Susan and her string of lovers. God he hoped he was over reacting.

“I heard you were pregnant,” he said once he was calm enough to talk like a civilized person though there was still a bit of a bite to his tone. “Congrats, by the way, but I have to know. Is it mine?” If Greg was a lucky man Mycroft would scoff at him and say no, it wasn’t and then Greg could apologize for being an arse, their conversation would turn awkward, one would hang up and then that would be that. He could get on with his life. Then again, he couldn’t really remember ever being that lucky.

Mycroft was quiet for a long moment, running his free hand over his face. So it had come to this. Greg knew. This wouldn’t go well. Part of him idly wondered how Greg had found out. He thought for sure Sherlock wouldn’t bother mentioning his condition to Lestrade. Then he remembered the reports on the most recent cases. First two victims pregnant, a third found with no trace of how the murder had come about. Mycroft was willing to bet she was pregnant too and Sherlock had noticed due to his own scent change. Clever little bother, always ruining the best laid plans.

He could just lie. He’d done it before; his untruth about his birth control had slipped from his lips so easily. He could just say he’d gone into the clinic the next day. But if Greg knew anything about that or research it, he would find out that you had to be off birth control for it to work. He’s find out anyway. Mycroft closed his eyes, his throat tightening.

“It’s yours. I’m sorry Gregory. I’d decided to try for a baby to carry on my family name. I was going to do it by artificial insemination, but my heat came early and in my altered state, you were convenient and the perfect candidate. I realize how difficult this makes things. I’d hoped to try to hide it from you to not complicate matters…” He did his best to explain himself, fighting himself with every word.

When Mycroft confirmed that he was in fact carrying Greg’s kid, it felt like the world had opened up beneath his feet. And then the rage returned like a wildfire. “You weren’t ever going to tell me?” He yelled, making a few people around him jump. He slammed his hand against the wall and went around the corner for some illusion of privacy. “You’re telling me that I got you pregnant, which you’ve known, and you were not going to fucking tell me that I’m a father? So what, you being on birth control; that had been a lie huh? What else have you fucking kept from me?” Greg scrubbed his free hand over his face and tried not to let the words, ‘convenient,’ and ‘perfect candidate,’ roll around in his head. Sherlock was a piece of work. He was as cold and calculating as a machine. Greg understood that. But he had never expected Mycroft to be so cold blooded. Greg should have known better.

Mycroft ran a hand through his auburn hair, guilt clenching in his chest. He took a few deep breaths, trying to figure out anything he could say or do to make things right. “Gregory, please try to calm down.” He replied, softly though and without the usual demanding bite to it. “Yes, you got me pregnant and yes I knew you were the father. Though thus far, I’ve admittedly been trying to think of you as a donor. It’s true I had no intention of telling you. I have no interest in being involved. A child is difficult enough, I don’t need the stress of a partner who I would never be able to make happy with my position. I didn’t want to make you feel obligated to help me.” He let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yes, I lied about the birth control. At the time, it was the easiest thing in the world.” He was quiet for a long moment. “I’m sorry you didn’t hear it from me, but I’m afraid you never would have heard it from me if you hadn’t found out. I haven’t kept anything else from you…” The Omega shook he head on his side of the line. “Just.. I request that you leave me alone. You may be the father, but there isn’t much you can do about it, now is there? I’m sorry.”

Greg turned around to lean against the wall or else he feared he would have fallen. His chest felt like someone was sitting on it and squashing on his lungs, he could hardly breathe. Of all the shitty things to happen to him, that topped the cake. Even the arsehole who had shot him eight years ago seemed more apologetic than Mycroft was. Hell, even one of Susan’s lovers had apologized to Greg in his face and didn’t say a damn thing when Greg had punched him. And the irony of it all. Christ the irony alone made him feel he might just fucking cry.

“Seven years,” he started, his voice flat. “Me and Susan tried for seven years to have a kid and not a single thing happen. I fuck you into the wall once and you get knocked up like a dream but you want nothing to do with me.” He let out a humorous laugh, shaking his head. “And if you have it your way, the kid, our kid, will grow up not even knowing I exist outside of seeing my face in the paper time to time. That’s right, isn’t it? But guess what?” Greg licked his lips and the edge returned in his voice, heavy with resolve. “I am not a fucking donor. We had sex, you tricked me into getting you up the duff and I’m not just going to stand by while you let fucking nannies and nursemaids raise our kid so you can happily ignore it while you run the country behind a desk. And that’s all it is to you isn’t it? An heir. Someone to pass the Holmes name. Well I’m going to fight it. I don’t care what power you think you wield you arrogant bastard. You’re carrying my kid and that means something to me.”

Greg slammed his thumb on the button to end the call before Mycroft could get a chance to argue because as far as Greg was concerned, there was no way to argue out of the fucked up situation they were in. The baby that grew in Mycroft’s belly was half his and he was going to fight tooth and nail for it. But first he had a job to finish and then he needed to call his solicitor.

Mycroft stared numbly at his phone, blinking a few times, Greg’s words ringing through his head. Finally he put it down and rested his elbows on his desk, running both of his hand over his face and into his hair. He had no idea what he was going to do. He could easily have Greg kept away from him, but he didn’t want to resort to that. Greg wanted a child. Had a child… Mycroft leaned back and placed a soft hand over the soft swell of his belly. The child was his, but with every right, it was Greg’s too. He should have never done it. He should have just waited until his next heat and had things done artificially. But he hadn’t. He’d had sex with Greg instead and had hoped there would be no strings attached. And now he was paying for his carelessness.

The man’s shoulders sagged. He had a headache forming and was just tired. He had work to do, but he just didn’t feel like doing it. The man closed his eyes. He still didn’t know what to make of Greg’s words. The man wanted the baby. He’d obviously wanted a family if he and his ex-wife had tried so long. And now here Mycroft was, dangling it under his nose before trying to snatch it away. The Omega’s heart clenched. Despite popular belief, Mycroft was more feeling than his brother seemed to be, he was just more adept at putting up a mask, and this was tearing at him. Looking weary, he picked up his phone again, choosing Greg’s number.

_We obviously need to talk about this, civilly and face to face. I’m not saying I’m agreeing with you playing an active part, but I’m just at a bit of a loss. Let me know when you’ve calmed down enough and we can try this again. -M_

Greg felt his phone buzz in his pocket in the middle of a yelling match with Sherlock. It hadn’t taken him much to figure out why Greg was so upset and naturally flew off in an indignant tiff, airing out all of Greg’s dirty laundry right in front of his team, and when his mobile went off he knew, just knew it was Mycroft and that would have been the final straw if not for John. Greg had honestly been about to punch Sherlock in his knob if John hadn’t grabbed him by the wrist and levelled Greg down with a firm look. When Greg first met Watson he had a hard time believing that he was an Alpha, he just seemed so non-threatening. Greg sure as hell believed it now.

“Is this really the time and place?” John hissed. Greg met his eyes and forced air into his lungs, his nostrils flaring. There went trying to do his job professionally.

“We’re done here anyways. John!” Greg caught the flap of Sherlock’s coat as he stormed off and John’s grip lessened. Greg wrenched his arm free and waved John off. He wasn’t sure that if he opened his mouth he wouldn’t start yelling and John didn’t deserve that. The only wrong he’d ever committed in Greg’s eyes was getting caught up in a bloody Holmes.

Once they were gone he could breathe a little better, but he still couldn’t concentrate. It wasn’t like he was needed at the scene anyways. His bit was done and Sally could take over. He issued the necessary orders, told his people he was going to head back to the precinct and did just that. He didn’t check his mobile until he was back at the met, the drive and change of scenery having helped to clear his head a little.

_Give me a day or two then I’ll clear my schedule. You pick the time and place. -GL_

_Very well. Let me know when you have time and I shall accommodate. -M_

Mycroft put his phone away. He knew Greg needed those days to do more than just clear his schedule. More likely than not, the Alpha needed to cool down and think about this. Mycroft had some thinking to do as well. He went back to his paperwork, the only one in his vast office. After about an hour of work, he glanced to the place in the wall that held his panic room. His child had been conceived in there in heated passion. He’d manipulated and lied to Greg to get what he’d wanted but it still clung to him. There was something else that had happened in the room that Mycroft had never been able to explain. He’d been serviced by an Alpha before; Greg was nothing special in that respect. Perhaps it was because he knew Greg. Not only that, but found him rather attractive as well. And now he was pregnant with his child. Mycroft made a face as his heartburn returned. He would have to ask his doctor about that during his next visit. Sighing, he went back to work and the day wore on. He went home and got some rest. Greg would contact him when he was ready.

Greg went back to his office and buried himself in his work until he couldn’t see straight. Then once he got home he went straight for the half bottle of whiskey on his counter and drank it down without having had a bite to eat since noon. By midnight he was happily, gloriously pissed. He had always been a happy drunk, all his troubles just slid away. Even a rerun of Jekyll seemed like a bloody fantastic good idea at the time. No, what seemed like the best idea in the world was texting Mycroft bloody Holmes at two in the morning while Greg was having a fit over Nesbitt covered in fake blood and singing some song from the Lion King.

_you Knowhat teh worst thin is. Oyu kmow the worse@ I like you. liekd you? thats the worst- GL_

Once he had that off his chest he finished the bottle off, saluted to Nesbitt with the empty bottle, and then passed out sometime before the sun came up. Blissfully, he didn’t have a single dream.

Mycroft might have an odd sleeping schedule, even while pregnant, but 2 am was definitely not in his range for being awake, unless he had to use the bathroom. Which wasn’t at the moment. Who in their right mind decided that now would be a good time to text him? He was a light sleeper and the noise had instantly woken him up. Not even bothering to turn the lights on, he groped for his phone until he found it and turned the screen back on, squinting into the harsh light. He was a little surprised to find it was from Greg. A somewhat intoxicated Greg if the way he’d typed the message was anything to go by.

Mycroft bit his lip. He didn’t know if he should believe what the text said, it making him more confused than before. Some people lied when they were drunk; others were more likely to tell the truth. If it was true, he’d hurt Greg even more than he originally imagined. There was no point in responding to the text and embarrassing Greg any though. The Omega put his phone back down and leaned back with a sigh, his hands sliding over is belly. He rubbed the curve with his thumb, thinking all of it over. Greg was wrong about one thing. While Mycroft did see his child as an heir, and had originally seen it like that, the four months had led him to feel affection for the tiny being. Last week he’d heard the child’s heartbeat for the first time. A faint smile graced his lips before he sighed and closed his eyes again. He didn’t know what to expect with seeing Greg and talking about this, but he might as well just let it happen.

 Greg wanted to die. He woke up to light streaming through the sitting room window, his mouth tasted like furry death and his alarm was blaring from the bedroom. Small plus for the tiny, crap flat he got after the divorce settlement, the walls were horribly paper thin. He groaned into the drool covered cushion and scrabbled for his phone on the ground. If he was a coward he would just call in sick and crawl into a dark corner and die. Instead he blindly called for someone to pick him up in an hour. With coffee. Lots of fucking coffee.

Then it was with herculean effort to get himself off the sofa, in the shower and in clean clothes. He had a splitting headache, his stomach felt like rats were eating him up from the inside, and the worse part of it all was that with sobriety came the rush of thoughts and memories that had lead him to the bottle in the first place. Mycroft was pregnant. With his kid. Some body shoot him please.

There was one good thing about the hang over, he discovered once he was behind his desk with a pair of sunglasses firmly in place and a strong cup of black; the pain behind the eyes distracted him from all the pitying looks. He knew he was getting them, same looks he got when his marriage crash and burned. He held no illusions that news wouldn’t have spread like wild fire before the days end. But he focused on his job, called the necessary people to try and find a link between the victims, and once the hangover went away after some time around four in the evening, he felt a little more human and a bit more clear-headed. Things still weren’t right, not one bloody bit, but he knew he had to take a few steps to get there. First thing first.

_Would tomorrow or Thursday work for you? –GL_

Mycroft blinked at his phone when it beeped at him mid-afternoon. Things usually started slowing down around this time. He checked to discover is was not, in fact, some politician, but Gregory. He looked at the message for a moment, remembering the one from early that morning before replying.

_Tomorrow works rather well. I’m working from home tomorrow. Any time in particular? You also mentioned I could pick the place. I just wish to know if you’d prefer somewhere more private or if you would be alright somewhere public, say like a cafe. -M_

Mycroft had spent increasingly more time working from home in the past few months, doctor’s orders. According to his physician, he should be working from home and resting at least once a week with the schedule he ran so he didn’t overwork and stress himself. Tomorrow would be a simple day of flexible paperwork and phone calls, with no meetings or negotiations. Mycroft ran a hand over his hair, tucking a stray auburn curl on his forehead back in place. He paused when he felt a twinge in his abdominal muscles, his body still getting used to the constant change before getting back to work. He had to get more done today if he wanted to have an easy day tomorrow. Well, as easy as it could get, seeing as it would likely involve talking with Greg. He still didn’t know how that was going to go, but he supposed he’d find out soon enough.

_A cafe works fine. Just text me the address and I’ll meet you there. Any time after noon preferably. I’ll make do if you have to make it before. -GL_

Greg didn’t blame Mycroft for wanting to choose somewhere public. His behaviour yesterday had been stereotypical Alpha temper and he didn’t come off as a very level headed person in his own view. So public would be good. Greg would just make himself be on his best behaviour even if being around a Holmes for too long seemed to just bring out the worse in him. Mycroft especially, apparently.

“Boss, Daniel thinks he found something in the tox report on Jones. He wants you to have a look.” Greg’s head snapped up when Sally appeared at his door. His mobile was left forgotten on top of his desk and he was back to focusing on the job, his personal life taking its usual backseat. Nothing changed there.

_The place I had in mind is called the Petit Coin. It’s on Stoke Newington Church Street. In the afternoon is as good as any. Would two be suitable? -M_

Mycroft then returned to his work, glancing at his phone from time to time but not expecting much. Greg was just as busy as he was. The Omega rolled his shoulders and set to work approving a new contingency plan he’d been presented with. He had a meeting in an hour that would go until eight and then he had a more private meeting with the PM for an hour after that. All in all, Mycroft would be grateful for his time at home tomorrow. Work was so much easier when you could do it in comfort.

The man grimaced when he flipped one paper over. He’d almost forgotten he was expected in Kiev two weeks from now. It would be his last long distance trip before he settled in, if he accepted. Though, considering it, it might be better for him to decline. Kiev was a beautiful place, but most of the politicians who knew him there thought he was an Alpha or Beta. Showing up there as an Omega, especially a pregnant one, might not go over so well. Sighing, he summoned his personal assistant and asked for some tea, knowing full well he’d be getting something without caffeine in it. The woman was looking out for him, but he missed his black teas. And right now, he needed a boost. It was going to be a long day.

The lead that Anderson may have found wasn’t much, but it was something to go by. As was usual for his work day, as soon as they had a bite it seemed everyone had something, including Molly. While he had people to make the calls to check into the lead, he had a trip to Bart’s that needed to get done. He just barely had the mind to grab his mobile and send a quick text on his way out.

_Two’s fine. I know the area. I’ll let you know if I have to cancel but otherwise I’ll see you there. -GL_

He did have the small thought of asking Mycroft if he would need a ride, or anything but managed to stop himself and shove all concerns regarding his personal life back in its metaphorical box. Even if Mycroft needed something, Greg doubt that the man would accept anything from him just yet. They weren’t at the place where Greg could start caring for the man that was carrying his child. They might never get to that place.

_I’ll see you then. -M_

Mycroft replied before heading into his meeting. It didn’t last as long as it was supposed to, which was a nice change, though his colleagues still tended to ramble on. The Omega stifled many a yawn, his body telling him he needed rest. He resisted however and kept his mask up and all he was feeling hidden. The people he worked with had been acting a little different towards once they figured out he was expecting, even more so once it became visible. He’d lost a little respect here and there, Omegas still weren’t quiet seen as equal yet, but he found he could also use some of their tendencies to his advantage. Alphas had the natural tendency to want to coddle pregnant Omegas, especially if they weren’t bonded and Mycroft found he could use this instinct to easily manipulate more than half the people who occupied positions that he interacted with.

After the meeting, he went to the PM’s office. They talked pleasantly and he updated the man on some things that had come to pass. The hour went quickly and soon he was on his way home for some much needed rest. Today had been productive and tomorrow would let him have some much needed relaxation. For the most part.

Greg was a disgrace to all Alphas. He arrived on Stoke fifteen minutes early, spent five minutes deciding where to park then another five or so just debating if he should head in or not. Which was what made him a disgrace. He should be storming in there and telling the Omega exactly what was going to happen for the rest of his term and everything was going to go Greg’s way whether Mycroft liked it or not. Only… Greg didn’t have a damn clue what he wanted. That and he had never been a typical domineering Alpha in that respect. His mum had raised him to be a good man and not to think himself entitled just because he was gifted with a big cock. His mum’s unfortunate wording and all.

So by the time he finally entered the homely establishment, he was a bit of a nervous wreck. He probably looked it, being in his work clothes and long coat, but he hadn’t the time to go home and change into something a little more casual and in a mum and pop cafe with pastel colouring, he felt like a ponce. For a split second he thought that he should leave and just let Mycroft have his way, but then he caught a sweet, calming scent that helped build his resolve. He didn’t know what it was (sweet rolls maybe or a special blend) but it went straight to his brain, giving him a chemical cocktail that calmed him down enough for him to remember that he was doing the right thing. He was going to be in his kid’s life no matter the cost or who he pissed off.

Mycroft had arrived there early and at his own leisure, coming from his own home. It was cold out, but inside the cafe was warm and he’d picked a suitable table in the back and had gotten himself some herbal tea and a scone. This place wasn’t extremely fancy, in fact it was rather domestic and wasn’t what you’d think he’d like at all. But he enjoyed it. They had good pastries. He was dressed more casually than usual, trying to keep a neutral ground. He wasn’t wearing anything that suggested power, nor was he wearing anything submissive. The Omega had on a cream coloured button-down shirt and a blue pinstripe waistcoat, his tie a pleasant shade of red. The waistcoat accentuated his form in a simple, round but soft way and his trousers were plain and black. He looked like someone who’d just spent the day out at the library or at the park.

He looked up when Lestrade came in, his scent reaching his nose as he quickly assessed the man. Nervous, tired, unsure. Mycroft let out a soft breath and sat up straight, waiting for Greg to notice him. He’d rather get this over with, whatever _this_  was going to be.

Greg caught a flash of movement in the corner of his eyes and turned to find Mycroft sitting at a far table and not at all what Greg expected. He blinked at the casual dress, (casual for Mycroft) a bit reeling from the lack of an intimidating suit. It still fit him though, even if it made Mycroft look like a librarian, but it was oddly comforting all the same. Mycroft looked like a normal bloke out for tea and the non-threatening dress and pose made Greg relax a bit more and finally start walking towards the man.

It wasn’t until he reached the table though that he was able to see the soft swell of a baby bump, making Greg go completely still and his awkward greeting dying in his throat. He could smell it too, that cloying Omega scent laced with pregnancy pheromones. It was the scent he had detected when he first came into the cafe, and what did it say about him that Mycroft was the first thing he picked out in a myriad of smells of various teas and pastries.

“Uh… hey?” Greg blinked once then forced himself down into a chair to cover up some of his embarrassment even though he was still way out of sorts. He didn’t have a clue what to do now that they were face to face, the memory of their last meeting still vivid in his mind. So to add to his idiocy and nerves, he could feel that he was blushing. Of course he was.

“Hello Gregory.” Mycroft replied calmly, lacing his fingers around his teacup. Inwardly, he had been tense and unsure himself, but seeing Greg in the state he was calmed him down. If anything, the man just seemed confused. His face flushed slightly when he sat and Mycroft’s lips turned up slightly, offering the man a small smile. “I hope the cafe is to your tastes? I’m rather fond of it myself and though you would enjoy the atmosphere. Feel free to get whatever you like. I’m not stopping you.” He took a sip of his own raspberry lemongrass tea, watching Greg carefully over the top of his teacup.

But then his shoulders sagged and he sighed, looking at the teacup mournfully. “It’s all right, but I so do miss something strong and black.” He told the Alpha resignedly. There was no real point in hiding things at the moment and it wouldn’t do to wear the cold mask. Maybe if he just relaxed, things would go more smoothly. He glanced back up at Greg. “But we’re not really here to talk about tea are we?” He set his teacup back down, shifting in his chair. “But first and foremost, I’d like to apologise properly. I used you and that was wrong of me. I’m truly sorry. I’d blame it on my heat but I don’t think that’s exactly fair. I don’t regret getting pregnant, but I hold some guilt about the way I went about doing so.”

Greg composed himself as Mycroft talked, forcing himself to not react badly. Weird thing was he felt like he should still be angry, but he wasn’t even annoyed once Mycroft finished talking. Resigned and a bit hurt at being used, but all of his previous anger was gone. In truth, he felt like a right pillock for having yelled at Mycroft at all. It was his duty as an Alpha to protect Omegas, not scream at them down a mobile, and especially now he felt the overwhelming desire to make right by Mycroft, however that would entail.

“Hey, it’s alright. I mean, no it’s not really, you don’t do that to a person, but people do crazy things for kids. Trust me, I know.” His face softened and his shoulders sagged a bit, mirroring Mycroft’s worn out posture. “And are you doing alright? My being an arse probably didn’t help with the stress. I am sorry for that. I handled the news wrong. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I am sorry about that.”

He almost gave into the urge to reach out and touch Mycroft’s hand for extra reassurance when a tiny little woman popped up with a guarded smile. “Do you need anything, love?” She smelled like a Beta and was obviously feeling some protective urges towards Mycroft, with the way she gave him a quick once over. Betas didn’t have the same instinct towards Omegas like an Alpha did, but there wasn’t a gender that didn’t want to take care of an expecting Omega. No one was safe from those kinds of pheromones. Alphas were just hit the hardest.

“Bla… er I’ll have what he’s having,” he corrected last minute. Probably would be rude to order straight tea when Mycroft was obviously put out.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow when he heard Greg order, still going over what the other man had just said. “You don’t have to worry about offending me. I said you could order anything. Just because I can’t have caffeine doesn’t mean you have to avoid it when you’re around me.” Though inwardly, he was actually a little touched that Greg would do that. He’d always taken the man for someone who basically thrived off strong coffee and tea. He shifted in his chair again, looking down at the reddish amber liquid in his cup and idly wondered if he could convince his doctor to let him drink chai.

“I’m doing well enough. Work is still stressful and takes up most of my time, but I’m healthy and the baby’s healthy so that’s really all I can ask for.” He said quietly. “But I’m not holding your reaction against you. It was perfectly reasonable of you to be completely honest. You have every right to be angry.” Mycroft looked a little lost. He thought this conversation was going to be something quick. Where he told Greg he really wasn’t interested in a partner, but was sure they could work out custody of some sort. But he couldn’t bring himself to do that now. They still needed to come up with some sort of arrangement though.

“You’ve already heard my side of what I want to happen, though I will admit, it’s a pre-emptive decision should you ever find out. I suppose I was under the notion that you’d be disgusted by what I’d done and want nothing to do with me. I’ve heard your side as well and, admittedly, you do have rights to the child as much as I do. There was also the point that any child of mine likely would be raised by a nanny with how busy I am. I was. I suppose I should ask, now that we’re in a calmer state, what it is you really want out of this.”

Greg pulled out a napkin from the dispenser to fiddle with the corners as Mycroft spoke. When he was asked about what he wanted, he reflectively shrugged then took a deep, slow breath. He had a small pile of white paper snow and a steaming cup of tea at his elbow by the time he had a response. Looking away from his mess, he met Mycroft’s eyes.

“I want to be in the kid’s life. Look, I don’t expect much. As much as I wish we had been, we weren’t exactly friends when uh… right. Acquaintances, yeah, but not friends. So I’m not asking to suddenly make house with you. I just want to be given the chance to be a father. My parents were divorced, I know how much it will be a strain to have joint custody, but damn it, no kid should grow up not knowing who their dad is, especially when the man wants to be in his life. And I don’t just mean when the kid is older either. If… if that can be arranged. I’ll work something out at work, I don’t care, but I want to be a part in its raising.”

Mycroft nodded as he listened to Greg’s words. Part of him was relieved that Greg didn’t expect a bond and the works; the other part just didn’t know what to think. He just wanted to be a part of their child’s life. And Mycroft knew it was something Greg wanted to be. The Alpha wanted to be a father and Mycroft honestly didn’t have the heart to rip that away from him when he’d come so close. When Greg finished, Mycroft steepled his fingers at his lips, looking thoughtful before nodding.

“If you want to be in the child’s life, I won’t deny you that.” He said quietly. “It deserves better than being raised like I was anyway. I believe a sort of joint custody would be to our benefit. Unlike a divorced or separated couple, there is no lost love between us and I have reason to believe we could work well together in the prospect of parenting. We would not be a couple so much as co-parents. We could even become good friends.” He paused, considering something. “Though, I must ask, how much do you want to be involved with the pregnancy itself? With updates, doctor’s appointments and the like?”

Greg wrapped his hand around the mug to let the warmth bleed into his skin before taking a sip. He immediately cringed, tried to hide it with a cough, then had the decency to look apologetic for trying to cover up his reaction at all. He wasn’t for floral teas. Actually, he hated the stuff and it was just as bad as he expected. He would suffer through but get the strongest cup of tea he could find when this was over.

“How much do you want me to be involved? I get it’s a personal matter for you; I don’t need all the details if you’re not comfortable. But I would like updates, yeah,” he said with a definitive nod. “And uh… I wouldn’t mind being there for check-ups. If you’re alright with that. I would like to see how he’s, or her, is coming along.” He wanted to offer more than that, to be Mycroft’s personal valet if he could, but he felt like that was crossing over a line.

Honestly, he hated that they weren’t more than what they were if only to be right there when ever Mycroft needed someone, to make sure that another Alpha didn’t try and bond with Mycroft and take over all rights Greg would have to the child. But that was just ridiculous. The whole point of Mycroft’s deception was to have a baby without being bonded.

“I can agree to that. My first ultrasound is in three weeks, so I doubt that’s something you’d want to miss. I’ll also do what I can to keep you updated.” He ran his fingers through his hair carefully. “I’ll do my best to keep in touch. If we’re going to do this together, we might as well get to know each other. And we’ll need to stay in contact to make plans.” Mycroft paused to consider something, sipping his tea again.

“We could arrange to meet with each other here every few weeks to discuss such things as well as keep you updated. I have a day at home each week which would be the optimal time to meet from my end, though they are subject to change and your own schedule is rather hectic from what I can tell. But it would be better to meet in person, in my view that is.” The Omega leaned back in his chair, considering Greg for a long moment. “This was never a part of my original plan, but I’m starting to see that it might actually be the better option.”

Greg had a few thoughts of what a better option really was, but declined to comment on that. Instead he bravely took another sip before sitting back and letting the proposal filter through his mind, giving it due thought. There was too much that he wanted, none of it he could ask for, so eventually he nodded and took what he could get.

“I’ll make the time if I have to. But every other week I’d like to meet up. Get an update. Also, you have my number. If you need anything, and I mean it, you call me, alright? Best thing about being a cop is that I can bend a few laws. I shouldn’t, but I will if I have to.” It was probably not the best thing to say, but the more time he spent with Mycroft, the more he wanted to be involved in Mycroft and the baby’s life. It was probably the pheromones affecting him, then again he had always been over protective.

“You aren’t the only one who can bend a few laws, Gregory. You forget who you’re talking to. But I understand the sentiment and thank you for it. I won’t hesitate to call should I need something from you.” He finished the last of his tea, not bothering with the scone. “Every other week sounds reasonable. Same time, same day, same place unless something comes up for either of us, in which we contact the other and reschedule.” Mycroft paused and wet his lips.

“I’ll also put you on my list to be one of the first people to be contacted if I’m hospitalized for any reason, especially if it involves the baby.” The Omega added. The muscles in his abdomen twinged again, one hand subconsciously slipping down to caress the soft curve, his head tilted to the side. He’d have to ask his doctor about that too. The man took a deep breath before realizing he was touching his stomach, in public, in front of Greg of all places and casually put it back on the table. “If there’s anything else you wish to talk about, now would be the time to speak up, Gregory. If not, I still have some paperwork I need to tend to.” He told the man politely.

Greg’s eyes had shot to Mycroft’s hand when it moved to his stomach. He jerked with the urge to ask if Mycroft was alright or to offer physical comfort but there was no signs of pain or duress so he managed to stay still and stare at the soft mound. Right beneath skin and fabric laid their kid, a miraculous mesh of their genes. He swallowed roughly, his throat suddenly dry, then curled his hands over his lap. It was ambitious of him to think he would finish his tea.

“Get back to your paper work,” he said gruffly, meeting Mycroft’s eyes for a split second before rising. “And thank you, for meeting with me and giving me this much. I appreciate it Mycroft.”

His instinct was to pay for his tea and go, but he offered his hand down to the Omega for a hand shake or to help him to his feet, Greg let that hang in the air unspoken. He was going to end this on a high note and not by running off just because he was suddenly uncomfortable and feeling put out like a dog that was offered a steak and only given a bone.

Mycroft offered him another small smile, before pushing himself up without Greg’s help before taking his hand and shaking it so that they could be eye to eye. It was a firm double pump before he released the DI’s hand. “You’ll hear from me soon enough, Gregory. I’m glad we’ve worked something out. The tea is on me and is already paid for, not to worry. They know me here. Feel free to get yourself some real, black tea on me. The Earl Grey here is quite good and I highly recommend it.” He offered Greg another nod before pulling on his coat that had been carefully draped over the back of an empty chair.

“I hope the rest of your day goes well for you.” He smiled once more before leaving and walking down the street towards the sleek black care he’d told to be ready two blocks away. He could use the exercise. He thought as he walked. He could tell Greg still seemed a little disappointed with how things were turning out. The man wanted more than just being in his child’s life. But Mycroft just didn’t think he could offer that. He was not relationship material. Even if a drunken text in the middle of the night had left him feeling oddly. Had left him wanting. He had nothing to offer Greg and he was too busy anyway. A child was enough.

Greg lingered a bit until he felt as much a fool as he probably looked. The woman hovered, waiting for his order or to cue him to leave. He went with the latter. Scrubbing a hand through his hair, he left with his hands in his pockets. The meeting had gone better than he had expected, so why did he feel like he was being denied something. He shook his head and pushed through the door into the cold, crisp afternoon. The clouds were overcast above him with the promise of rain but the air was as clean as it was ever going to get and helped clear his mind.

He took a few steps away from the buildings and pulled out his pack of fags and a lighter. He would quit, for the kid, but one last cigarette should get him through the rest of the day. He needed to fill his senses with something more than Mycroft’s pheromones and he couldn’t think of anything better than burning chemicals and poison. He took comfort in the ritual of shaking out a cig, lighting it up then the first drag. He sighed peacefully at the first hit and felt his muscles start to ease. That was what he needed, alright. He didn’t need more than what Mycroft was offering, didn’t need to ask for more than what he could have. He would have to deal with Mycroft’s pheromones affecting him though; because that was entirely the reason for the longing he felt when he was near the man. Or that was what he told himself, anyways.

When the cig was burned down to the filter he rubbed the amber head on the underside of his shoe, found a trash can for the butt, then got himself back to work. He could take the rest of the day off but he wasn’t much in the mood for returning to his depressing flat just yet. What that said about him, he didn’t know.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A development is noticed, some points are discussed and things get a little tense when Greg and Mycroft visit the clinic.

Mycroft was only partially listening as the Ukrainian ambassador rambled on about his proposal. Mycroft had gotten out of going to Kiev, but it meant several long meetings with the boring Beta diplomat they’d sent instead. He’d already decided what he was going to do, so there was really no point in listening to more than he had to, his face carefully schooled to look like he was paying attention. At the moment, he was revisiting the past few weeks in his mind. He and Greg had just had their second meeting not but a couple of days ago, having tea and discussing the upcoming ultrasound. Greg did well to keep himself seeming neutral about it, but Mycroft could tell Greg was excited. The man was slowing slipping into accepting the situation from what the elder Holmes could tell.

The Omega brought his attention back to the rambling Beta and tried not to look bored when suddenly his entire body tensed when a peculiar sensation overtook him. He concentrated completely on it, one hand instantly at his stomach where he’d felt it. No.. it couldn’t be.. Mycroft’s brows furrowed as he tried to identify the sensation.

“Mr. Holmes, are you all right?” The Omega looked up, his concentration broken when the Beta politician spoke. The man was halfway out of his chair, looking concerned. Mycroft gave him a sharp look and waved him off.

“I’m perfectly fine. Now if you wouldn’t mind, could we wrap this up?” He replied, polite but demanding. The other man sputtered and flushed before continuing. Finishing up his presentation, he left, leaving Mycroft to refocus on what he was feeling. He blinked and then smiled a little, a warmth spreading through him. Then he realised he’d have to tell Gregory. Reaching into his pocket and retrieving his phone, he selected Greg’s number.

_As you asked to be kept updated, I thought you should know I just felt the child move for the first time. –M_

Greg glared down at the files strewn across his desk. They were still no closer to apprehending the Omega Killer, God he hated that name, and to top things off he had to deal with a double homicide in Chelsea that morning. It had been a simple open and close case though, the killer found in his flat cowering in the loo. Greg had almost felt bad for the Beta. Almost.

The only thing that did seem to be going alright in his life was things between him and Mycroft. Their last meeting went better than the first, for one thing. It had almost been a nice, comfortable afternoon tea. Greg even found a brand of the herbal crap that didn’t make him gag but went for two cups of strong tea as soon as he returned to the office. Still, things seemed to be going on the right track, he had a few days until the ultrasound. Now if only he had such luck at work. He was too wound up by his job that even a good meeting with Mycroft didn’t brighten his mood for very long. Needless to say, he was not exactly a ray of sunshine.

So when he mobile skittered along his desk from being on vibrate, his first thought was that it was Sherlock likely to badger him about a case since he was certainly overdue for it, or some other bad news. Releasing a huff of frustration, he flipped his mobile open to check the message with dread, and then was completely caught by surprise when he read the message from Mycroft. He immediately sat down in the office chair, causing it to wheel back a bit but he was too focused on replying to really notice.

_Really? How did it feel? Did it make your stomach bulge out? I bet that would be creepy as hell. But in a good way. -GL_

Mycroft read the text and then made sure his doors were fully closed before he pressed both hands to his belly and fully concentrated on the feeling. It was odd and somehow a little sweet and it made the pregnancy feel all the more real. His child was developed enough to not only move but it was strong enough that he could feel the movements as well. If that didn’t affect him, nothing would. He bit back the flush of emotions but still couldn’t help but smile. After a few moments, he’d analysed the feeling and picked his phone back up.

_No, I can’t even feel it from the outside, much less see it. Though I’d imagine that that might happen in the later months. It’s more of a heavy flutter if anything for the moment though. I think I may have been feeling it for a little while now, but it’s only just become noticeable enough for me to be able to pinpoint what it is. -M_

He almost wished he could see how Greg was reacting to the news. He was obviously interested, as he should be. It was his child too. Mycroft constantly reminded himself of that now, accepting it in his mind. He was working to accept Greg as the father of his child instead of just a donor; that this was something they were going to share. He was getting there, part of him actually grateful that he wouldn’t be raising the child alone. Sighing, he leaned back, idly wondering (not for the first time) what the child would look like. Would it have his auburn hair? Greg’s eyes? His freckles? Well, he wouldn’t know for a few more months and he hoped it would stay that way.

Greg was a little disappointed that Mycroft wasn’t having freak out inducing alien moments, but hopefully that would still come. It would be a laugh to see a foot or a hand try to punch its way out, not that he expected to actually get to witness that. Either way, Mycroft was still sharing something with him and Greg was pretty satisfied with that.

          _But that is the baby though, right? That means he’s healthy. Maybe he’ll get into footie or rugby if he turns out to be a kicker. -GL_

It did occur to him that he had started to think of the baby as a boy. He wasn’t sure why, though. Just came naturally, he supposed. But it did make him sit back and think for a bit. Ponder on what he wanted it to be, a girl or a boy. He wouldn’t have a single clue what to do with a girl, but back when he was with Susan he kept dreaming of a little brunette with her mother’s big eyes and his grin. Now he didn’t know what he and Mycroft were going to end up with. Oddly, he found himself not really caring so long as it was healthy. That was the important bit.

_Yes, I’m fairly sure it’s the baby. We can ask the doctor at the ultrasound this weekend. And we don’t know for sure that it’s a boy. Actually, that reminds me. We neglected to cover whether or not we want to know the gender at our last meeting. I personally am interested in knowing to be honest. -M_

Mycroft leaned back as he texted Greg, one hand still on his stomach. Usually he wouldn’t allow himself to do such things at the office, but he was alone and there was occasion for it, the pressing flutters coming and going here and there. Greg was right. This likely meant the little one was healthy, which he was thankful for. The man wet his lips. He would rather know the gender so he could plan ahead. He’d never seen the point in waiting to find out. To him it sounded like an excuse for being woefully unprepared. The Omega rubbed his thumb over the bump, the flesh firm and resisting beneath his waistcoat.

He couldn’t really say that he wanted the child to be one gender or another. He had virtually no experience in raising a girl though and felt he’d probably do better with a boy. He’d looked after Sherlock on numerous occasions when their nanny wasn’t and had practically taken over raising him once he himself was old enough to do so. Still… Thing’s hadn’t turned out great in that respect. Sometimes he still blamed himself for Sherlock’s descent into drugs. Hopefully, he’d do better this time.

Greg had to pause in his impromptu break to answer some questions for Sally then sign off on her report of the morning’s incident. He still needed to go down to the lab to get Daniel’s report and then harass Higgins. Mostly for the hell of it. Lord knew Higgins spent too much of his free time ragging on Greg. But first things first…

_I’d like to know too. I’m like you; I would rather be prepared even if that means decking the flat in pink. And hey that’s something I have been wanting to ask. I know you’re raising the baby at your place but I’m an anal bugger and I’d like to check out your flat and maybe help decorate? -GL_

Greg winced at himself but still sent the text. He felt like he was over stepping boundaries again but Mycroft had agreed to let him be involved and he wanted a hand in as much as he could. He was good with his hands, good at painting rooms and building things. If he didn’t think they could buy a better quality crib he would make one himself.

Mycroft read over this particular text a few times. He was glad Greg agreed with him in wanting to find out the gender, but wasn’t sure what to make for the man wanting to help prepare for the child’s arrival as well. The Omega supposed he just wanted to help. Greg was a family man and wanted to be involved wherever he could and Mycroft was fairly sure it had more to do with the man’s personality and not his gender status. If Mycroft was an Alpha in Greg’s position he’d probably send money and workers to get the job done. It said something about how different they were.

The elder Holmes sighed, both hands back up on his desk when he heard the door open. It was his PA with a few new documents for him to look over. He gave her a curt nod and a smile, putting his mobile to the side to take the files from her. She asked him if he needed anything, which he declined and she took her leave before he returned to his phone.

_I’ll think about it. It’s a valid request and the offer has some worth. I’ve read somewhere that it’s not recommended to expose myself to paint fumes. And while I could simply hire someone, I find myself disliking the idea of having strangers in my home, now especially. –M_

“Hey Sally! Call the university again. Maybe your dulcet tones will get you farther than my gruff voice did.” Sally popped her head into his office probably just to roll her eyes at him, to which he flashed a toothy grin at her. The grin dissipated when his phone buzzed again, no doubt from Mycroft.

“You’ve been popular lately, Sir.” Greg sneered at her cheeky tone and snatched his phone up before anyone could steal it. Good thing he didn’t have Rosie in the office, she would have grabbed it as soon as it had went off, damn nosy tech that she was.

“Go make that call,” he ordered flatly. That time she did roll her eyes but at least she was sauntering out of his office, leaving him to check his mobile. He had the grace to wince. He had been a bit forward, obviously.

_I read about that. Apparently by the time you’re six months in you’re not going to be able to stand scents from anyone but you and me only cause I’m the father so that’s expected. You been nesting yet? Read about that too. Can’t stop imagining you trying to build a bird’s nest for the baby ;) -GL._

_I have noticed that others’ scents have started to become cloying and not in a good way. Fortunately, my line of work requires everyone to wear scent maskers. They’re actually considering making it mandatory for all Alphas in Parliament to be on suppressants after the fiasco almost five months ago. That aside, I’m not sure what you mean by nesting. I’m certainly not collecting twigs, so you can get that image out of your head right now. -M_

Mycroft’s brows furrowed and wondered if his recent need to tidy things; be it in his home or his office was something to do with it. He’d have to do some more research when he got home as he realised he wasn’t exactly sure what to expect over the next few months. He knew about the basics, but what Greg was saying was new to him.

Puzzling over it, the man got up to use the restroom, something he’d had to do on a much more frequent basis, trying to withhold the urge to put his hands at his back. It was a slowly growing ache that had started a few weeks ago and had recently become more noticeable. He always felt it when he stood up the most. Grimacing, he relieved himself, washed up and returned to his office. Sitting down, he finally gave in and worked at some of the tension out of the small of his back with his thumbs, resigning himself to the fact that it would only get worse as he got bigger. Mycroft glanced down at his belly, feeling another round of flutters. He didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to him until now, but he realised he was already passed the halfway mark. He wasn’t really sure what to think of that.

Greg didn’t know whether to feel an insurmountable smugness as knowing something that Mycroft didn’t, or embarrassed over how many baby books he had read in the past two weeks. People would start thinking that he was the Omega. But whatever, even if he was going to be a part time dad, he was going to be the bloody best dad and that was final. Even if it meant reading all the ridiculous books.

_Nesting’s a big urge to clean up personal spaces and feeling crazy about getting ready for the baby. It’s just a term people use. You know just forget about it. I’m sure you’re far from that stage anyways. So Sat is the ultrasound right? -GL_

_Good to know. I’ll keep it in mind. And yes, the ultrasound is Saturday as is a short check-up that comes before it. I can send a car, as it’s a private clinic and can be a little difficult to get to seeing as you won’t find it on a map. -M_

So he  _had_  been nesting. Not that he was going to tell Greg that. The man double checked some of his paperwork before stretching and decided it was time to get something to eat. The heartburn had gotten to a point that he finally just called his doctor to find out what he could do about it. The man had told him to sip liquids and eat more, but smaller meals a day. Mycroft had also been relieved that he was allowed to take anti-acids, which helped a lot. Eating out sounded reasonable today. He’d been cooped up in his office enough. Texting his PA he had a car made ready as put away his files and got his coat before heading out. He’d grown accustomed to eating differently; doing what was needed to keep the child healthy as well as himself. It was rare that he missed a meal these days, unlike he used to whenever things got busy.

_I’d argue about needing a car but I’m going to just go with you on this one and take the car. I’ll see you on Saturday. -GL_

Greg finally pushed himself out of his chair to go and do his job. As much as he liked skirting his responsibilities as a cop, he wanted to catch the killer as soon as possible so he had one less thing to have nightmares about.

—-

Greg released a plume of smoke into the air as he waited for Mycroft’s car in front of the Met. He had to go into work that morning to get as much of his paperwork done as possible and when he got the call about the car, a last planned cigarette had been in order.

Life was still chaos, the boys at the station found something else to make his life a living hell, and he was nervous about the ultrasound. They would get an idea if the kid was healthy or not and maybe find out the gender. Once they knew the gender he knew on his part that was when the real stress came. Getting ready for a kid was no light matter and it was going to be even more stressful with him and Mycroft living on opposite sides of London.

Hence the need for a cigarette. He took one last drag just as the nondescript black car was pulling up and ground the head down into the pavement. He gave himself a quick once over from the can deodorant before opening the door and getting in.

Mycroft was waiting inside, dressed in something far more casual even for their meetings. He was wearing a simple blue jumper with a white button-down underneath, not a waistcoat or tie in sight. It was what he always wore to appointments as it made things easier, but it occurred to him that this would be the first Greg would be attending. The man offered the Alpha a nod and a small smile in greeting when he got in. His nose twitched when he smelled tobacco smoke on Greg’s person, even under the deodorant, but he did his best to ignore it. Everyone had their way for coping with nerves. Mycroft had rarely smoked before the pregnancy and now not at all. Blinking, he did his best to filter through the smells and find Greg’s scent beneath it. Mycroft had noticed during their second meeting that he had found the man’s scent more calming than he had the first time, while everyone else’s scent around him had grown more bitter to his nose. Now, even with the overlay of the other chemicals, he found the man’s scent enjoyable, not that he would admit it.

“Busy day, Gregory?” He asked casually, taking in the Alpha’s appearance and expression with practised ease. He was nervous, even if his smoking hadn’t already given it away, but he was hiding it well. Nervous be still excited, Mycroft decided as he watched the man with a calm expression.

Greg’s mouth twitched in a bashful smile at being caught out. He looked down at himself, wincing at the small coffee stain on his white button up work shirt then shrugged. Just being in the car with Mycroft was working more to calm his nerves than the cigarette had so he could be arsed to care whether he looked a little rumpled or not. It came with the territory.

“When ain’t I busy,” he said with a small sigh then blatantly stared at Mycroft’s get up. He thought he had seen Mycroft do casual at their little tea parties but he was obviously wrong. At least this time he hadn’t been as badly surprised at the sight of Mycroft blending in with civilians than he was the first time. “You look uh, comfortable. Relaxed.” He tore his eyes away when he felt he might have stared for too long and watched Greater London roll past the window over Mycroft’s shoulder.

Mycroft glanced down at his attire before nodding. “Don’t think you’ll ever see me out in public in something like this, it just makes examinations easier. Though I will admit, it is rather comfortable.” He brushed a bit of lint off the jumper like it was offending him before shifting his weight in his seat, his back protesting. He may allow himself to show his discomfort in the privacy of his home and even in his office when alone, but he would do no such thing in front of Greg. The man was the type to worry, or perhaps not the type, but Mycroft could tell that the DI would worry if the man carrying his child showed any sort of discomfort. So he didn’t, concealing the grimace and keeping his hands in his lap.

He watched the streets go by though the tinted windows for the moment, glancing down when he felt another round of fluttering kicks from within him. He still hadn’t quiet gotten used to it and doubted he ever would. It was an odd and interesting feeling and, what’s more, it was his child. Mycroft glanced at Greg before letting out a soft sigh. “If you want proof that there my stomach doesn’t move disturbingly whenever the baby moves, it’s doing it right now.” He told the man offhandedly, his voice soft.

Greg’s eyes automatically snapped to Mycroft’s stomach, his quest to learn how to get to the clinic on his own forgotten. Without thinking he started to lift his hand but quickly caught himself before he could make things seriously uncomfortable between them. He set his hand down and watched raptly, though nothing happened. He was a little put out that Mycroft got to experience something that Greg couldn’t be a part of, but then again, he didn’t regret being the Alpha in the situation and thus not up the duff.

“It doesn’t hurt does it? Cause you look like something’s not much of a picnic.” It was just a hunch though, that Mycroft wasn’t comfortable, that or Greg had read too much. Near five months in, Mycroft should be experience back aches, heart burn, restlessness and numbness in the legs, possibly even chest and joint pains as well. From what he read, pregnancy was not the grand, happy, glowing event that the media liked to portray. It was hell.

Leave it to Greg to worry anyway. Mycroft refrained from giving him a pointed look and shook his head. “No, it doesn’t hurt. It’s just an interesting sensation, though I’m sure that will change as the months pass.” He hadn’t missed Greg almost reaching out, as if instinctive, but the man had ceased the movement rather quickly when he realised what he was doing. Honestly, Mycroft wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed. Usually, he wouldn’t want anyone touching him, but hormones did funny things to the body. The Omega let out a long breath as he looked down at his belly, before glancing at the DI out of the corner of his eye. He noticed the way Greg was looking at him, unconsciously checking him over. He was looking for signs, trying to pinpoint the discomfort he was fairly sure Mycroft was experiencing. The path of sight flicked from his back to his chest to his legs before back to his stomach. Interesting. Mycroft had been doing a little research about what to expect himself over the past few days, but it seemed he wasn’t the only one.

“Been doing some research, Gregory?” He asked, looking smug when he leaned back, his hands still carefully folded in his lap. “I can tell you’re trying to pick out symptoms just from the way you’re looking at me.”

Greg grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. He should have known that Mycroft would notice from just a look whereas the boys had caught him reading a book about what to expect on his free time. “Maybe a little,” he admitted, shifting uncomfortably like a school boy. “I just, I dunno, want to know what to expect. I mean, yeah I know you have it all covered and probably know more than I can ever learn from a book, but it doesn’t hurt, does it?” His tone was defensive, he knew, but he bloody loathed Alpha and Omega stereotypes and didn’t understand why it wasn’t okay for an Alpha to care about those things. Most just cared about heats and providing the sperm then after that their duties lied in provision, but he would never make as much as Mycroft did so he held no illusions there. Maybe he was just trying too hard to establish that he was more than a sperm donor.

Mycroft held up a hand, dismissing the thought. “No, no, it’s fine. Good actually. You’re doing more than expected of most Alphas and I respect that.” He told him, smiling a little. “You’re embracing the chance to be a father and I won’t stop you. We’ve agreed, the child is just as much yours as it is mine. You’re allowed to be interested.” He resisted the urge to rub his back; no matter how tight the muscles were as he continued.

“Though I expect that everything during the pregnancy will go well enough. As much as I loath to admit it, we Omegas are practically made for breeding and we tend to do it well. It’s been almost five months and I appear to be healthy and strong as does the little one.” It was then he realised he’d just used what he called the baby privately instead of the formal “child”, but hoped Greg wouldn’t notice. But his skin flushed slightly, with no control, as he pictured what Greg might do if he saw Mycroft talking to the baby while he was alone. He did it, but he probably would never admit it. Composing himself, he glanced out the window, noting that they were almost at the clinic.

Greg started to feel a lot better about himself at Mycroft’s reassurances, but when the man blushed, Greg perked right up like a dog who was promised a bone. Something had embarrassed Mycroft, which was enough to form a teasing smile on Greg’s lips, but for the life of him he didn’t know what made Mycroft blush so he didn’t have anything to tease him about. he would have to watch more closely to catch the slip next time. Not that he really hoped for reasons to tease the British Government. Of course not.

“Well thank you. Lord knows I get enough shite at work for wanting to be a proper dad. My fault for having brought the damn book to work. You’d think I had committed a crime or something.” He snorted for dramatic effect but now he wasn’t so bothered. Mycroft approved, even seemed pleased at Greg’s efforts and it made him feel strangely good. Proud. Not that he shouldn’t be proud already, but still.

Something in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned his head to look out the window. It took him only a second for him to realize that he didn’t have a clue to where they were. There seemed to be no street signs to get his bearings from, none of the buildings were remotely familiar, and the name subtly plastered on the side of what was obviously the clinic was obscure and unfamiliar. His nerves returned because he didn’t like being somewhere he didn’t know the layout to, but he kept that to himself.

“Well, I guess it’s show time.”

“I suppose it is.” Any comments he might have made on Greg’s interest and actually having a book on the topic of pregnancy he kept to himself as the car pulled up at the curb. His brow had furrowed a little when Greg brought up his co-workers harassing him about being involved. To him, it was big of Greg to want to stand up and show he was interested. They weren’t mates, but the man seemed to care, not only about the child, but about him as well, from the looks of it. As much as he tried to deny it, Mycroft was touched.

When he got out of the car, he wobbled a moment, but steadied himself quickly by bracing himself with the door. It was nothing dramatic, but Mycroft still felt some irritation. It was bad enough that his back hurt when he stood, much less that his balance was being thrown off as well. He hadn’t gotten used to his new centre of gravity just yet, and embarrassingly enough, it showed. He was used to standing and walking in a smooth and proud fashion, which he found he just couldn’t do with the growing weight and roundness of his belly. Looking annoyed, he walked towards the clinic doors, finally giving up and pressing his hands to his back and refusing to look at Greg as he did.

Greg’s innate reaction to witnessing anyone in need was to offer help but for once he stopped himself. Mycroft was as proud as any Alpha that Greg knew and last he wanted was to trample right on the man’s dignity. It took extreme self-control, but he walked just to Mycroft’s left instead of crowding him to be right there in case of a fall like he wanted. He had been around pregnant people enough to know that when they wanted help they would ask for it.

Though when Mycroft physically revealed back aches, it was impossible for Greg not to look concerned. He didn’t know what he could do to help though outside of offering a back rub and even he knew that wasn’t appropriate. He still couldn’t help but feel bad for the man though. He had to go through all the strife of pregnancy while Greg’s biggest concern was just to be involved. Not that he would switch roles of he could. He suffered enough aches and pains from his job.

“You should look into a back brace,” was all he said with a comforting pat to Mycroft’s shoulder. He looked anywhere but at Mycroft to spare the man, but offering physical comfort came naturally to someone as tactile as he was. Luckily a curvy little nurse with a professional smile was approaching Mycroft. Apparently it was one of those places where you didn’t even sign in and wait but instead was lead straight into a room. Not that he was surprised.

Mycroft tried not to glare at the suggestion of a back brace, he really did, Greg was just trying to be helpful, but he couldn’t help it. As it happened though, Greg wasn’t even looking at him so there wasn’t really much he could do. “I was under the impression that back pain was relatively normal during pregnancy.” He said shortly under his breath when they were inside. The clinic staff were required to wear scent maskers, much like his own colleagues as well as himself when he was at work, but the patients of the clinic did not and it clung. The bitterness of other people’s scents hung in the air, a recently mated Alpha/Omega pair had been here very recently and the smell bit at Mycroft’s nose.

Trying to compose himself, he followed the nurse to his back room. Yes, it was actually his. It was his own private examination room. No one else’s scent would ever touch it until he died. That is, until today. Now the room would be seeing Greg’s scent for the first time.

Greg was immediately on edge when the scents of other Alphas hit him and it hit him bloody heard. Even though he couldn’t actually see another Alpha, he still crowded behind Mycroft’s back as they walked to the room, a growl stuck in his throat. He didn’t even give it a second thought to enter the room that smelled only of Mycroft and immediately felt like he could breathe again. He shook it off then started to inspect the room until he was satisfied. The examination table was in the middle and not too close to the door and there was no windows. He didn’t like that there wasn’t a secondary exit, but then again it was a clinic. The nurse didn’t seem much phased by him.

“Good afternoon Mr Holmes. Your doctor will be right with you. The gown is already behind the curtain for you to change into. Do you or your Alpha need anything while you wait.” Greg’s head whipped around at being called Mycroft’s but he didn’t correct her. Instead he looked to the half-closed curtain where a small area with a sofa was. he just caught the sight of a swath of light blue fabric on a small table by the sofa. Likely there for personal items. At least it looked like they worked for comfort.

Mycroft didn’t correct her either. Silly woman. Really. It wasn’t hard to tell the scent of a bonded pair and one that wasn’t. Though, actually.. He gave her a thorough look. Beta. He should have seen it. They didn’t have the same sense of smell Omegas and Alphas did so he supposed she wasn’t to blame. “No, we won’t be needing anything.” He told her curtly with a look that said “leave now, or else”. She was likely used to such looks, seeing who this clinic catered to. The woman left and Mycroft walked towards the sofa, pulling the curtain shut behind him.

He changed quickly and with ease, just like he had planned. It did, however leave him feeling a little chilled. He’d never liked hospital gowns. The Omega sat down on the sofa, one hand carefully resting on his belly. “You can open the curtain now, Gregory. I’m as decent as I can get in these horrid things.” His own clothes were folded neatly on the armrest. So Greg was going to be present not only for the ultrasound, but the check up as well. Mycroft found that he was actually rather glad that his doctor wasn’t doing an internal examination today. He was already going to have to deal with enough embarrassment being splayed out on a table with his belly bared for all to see. And by all, he meant Greg, his doctor and himself. But still.

Though Mycroft hadn’t corrected the nurse for her mistake either, the temperature seemed to suddenly plummet. He busied himself by looking at the stages of pregnancy charts on the walls while the nurse briskly walked off and Mycroft all but stormed behind the curtain. Greg pursed his lips and crossed his hands behind his back but dutifully didn’t butt in.

He was surprised though when Mycroft invited him to join him on the other side of the curtain. There were chairs out by the examination desk but he went to the small nook anyways. And was met with another shock when he pushed the curtain back. Seeing Mycroft in the flimsy gown was the fifth state of dress he had seen the man and definitely the most disturbing. He seemed so small, even though he was tall even for a bloke and had that nice, round belly now, so not small. Diminished. And clearly uncomfortable. Even when Greg had him naked the man still kept his authority, (not that Greg really remembered that day all too clearly.) So to see him looking so vulnerable, it made Greg uncomfortable. Of the five states he had witnessed, he only favoured two, in a full suit and naked. Though he probably should only favour the latter. Then again, he was only human.

“You look miserable,” he said with no little amount of sympathy. Probably wasn’t the best thing to say to a pregnant Omega though but he had always been truthful to a fault. Probably why his marriage hadn’t lasted, come to think of it.

“Do I? Well, I apologise. It’s not easy to look dignified when you’re wearing a flimsy gown while five months pregnant. I thought I’d give you a moment to get used to it, because in a moment I’ll be belly up on that examination table, getting prodded and asked numerous and repetitive questions.” His tone was terse, his shoulders hunched.

Let it never be said that Mycroft liked going to the doctors’. Because he didn’t. He loathed it. It was part of why he was even letting Greg on this side of the curtain, because the man and his scent were his only source of comfort and likely would be for the duration. Not that he’d say it out loud. But if Mycroft Holmes could go on with life healthfully without ever seeing another doctor again, he would. He didn’t like things so private being so blatantly asked about and poked at. He glanced up at Greg. “Are you just going to stand there and gawk or are you going to sit down at least? I’m well aware that you’ve never seen me like this but I’d prefer if you didn’t stare.”

Jesus Christ it was like being married again. When confronted to an irate partner, and in a sense they were partners, Greg immediately fell back into his defence response of sarcasm. He should have expected it though, Mycroft had been giving off unhappy vibes since they left the car, but seriously, were all pregnant people that bloody testy?

“Duly noted! Next time I decide to comment on your current state I’ll just outright lie. Hey Mycroft, nice gown. You look bloody radiant!” Greg’s cheek twitched with annoyance then he forced himself down on the plush sofa, sticking to his own side. He knew that he didn’t have the right to be so annoyed, but he had never been overly fond of being ripped a new one and it made him a snarky bastard in defence. God he hoped that the doctor showed up soon.

If looks could kill, Greg’s head would be splattered all over the wall, with the pointed glare Mycroft pinned him with. Trying to get comfortable in the horrid gown, he crossed his arms across his chest and looked at the charts on the wall with virtually no interest. His teeth were ground together and his body was tense. He knew he should try to be more reasonable but he just couldn’t manage that at the moment. It was bad enough that he was here, even worst that Greg be witness to it. Maybe this was a bad idea.

Finally however, the doctor came in, which meant they could finally just get this over with. The man was an Omega like him, though you wouldn’t know from the scent due to the maskers. Mycroft got up to greet him, introducing Greg in tight tones. The doctor seemed to get that that was one thing he shouldn’t poke or prod. With as much haste as he could, the elder Holmes got up onto the table, just sitting for the time being as the doctor started the first of many questions, all the while carefully feeling Mycroft’s stomach. Yes, the heartburn was doing better. No, he hadn’t experienced any sort of bleeding. Yes, he had been experiencing back pain and he had, in fact, felt the child move. Sighing, the pregnant Omega lay down so the doctor could feel everything better and hoped he would just hurry up so they could get to the ultrasound and leave.

Greg took the higher ground by not acknowledging Mycroft’s burning glare of daggers, but mostly out of the fear of being outmatched. Thankfully the doctor was quick to arrive and Greg might have let out a small breath of relief, but hopefully no one noticed. Immediately he sat up a little straighter, then rose with perfect posture to introduce himself like a gentleman should. While Greg couldn’t scent him the man screamed Omega and it was a strange comfort, actually. He couldn’t help but wonder though what the doctor was smelling off of them. He at least didn’t presume that they were a couple for all that they were fighting like one.

By the time the doc was spreading gel over Mycroft’s belly, Greg had relaxed considerably. He started to feel for Mycroft again, because he would be uncomfortable as fuck in his position, and the nervous excitement was also making a comeback. He stood at Mycroft’s side, right at his shoulder, and tried not to fidget as the doc got the machine up and running.

“If this is uncomfortable at all Mr Holmes, please tell me immediately. You should feel only a light pressure but no pain. Any pain or tenderness is not normal.” Greg worried his thumb between his teeth at that then watched anxiously as the paddle was placed on the round bulge. He jumped, a bit, at the sudden scratch of static and at first there was nothing but a fuzzy black screen on the monitor. As the doctor moved the paddle around though, Greg started to hear odd sounds, like gurgles or a tiny little thump. Then finally the paddle was settled right on the top of Mycroft’s stomach and a loud, healthy thump- thump of a heart beat filled the room before the screen cleared to show the outline of a foetus showed. It wasn’t the blob that Greg was expecting but almost a clear baby with a full head, nose, eyes, the whole works. The body wasn’t very clear at that angle but Greg saw the baby’s perfect little feet and it took his breath away.

Right then, nothing existed but the sound of the fast little heart beat and the image of their baby. The doctor was beaming at them, seemingly pleased by their expressions, then moved the paddle around. When it settled Greg’s breath hitched and his hand dropped subconsciously to Mycroft’s shoulder. Their baby was sucking its thumb, right there in the womb, and it was the most adorable thing Greg had ever seen in his life. “God Myc, look at ‘em,” he breathed, completely floored.

Mycroft was speechless. He’d already heard the heartbeat and while it was still amazing to him, it was nothing compared to the image. The man stared blatantly at the screen, the annoyance he’d felt over the check up and the coolness of the gel that had made him tense but not moments before washed away. No, now all he could think of was their child. Ten fingers, ten toes, all there and looking healthy. And it looked like a child. He knew it would, but now he just didn’t know what to say. That tiny being was growing inside him and he had never been more in awe. And it was sucking its thumb, already aware of its own body enough to put its finger in its mouth. His spine felt tingly and his chest felt warm and suddenly he was on the verge of tears and he couldn’t for the life of him hold them back. He’d been holding things back long enough. He didn’t sob and cry, but his eyes were wet and a small, awestruck smile was on his face. Greg’s words grounded him a little and he nodded.

“I am. God, how can I not?” He murmured, then latently remembering that they wanted to know the gender. He looked to the doctor. “Is it a boy or a girl?” He asked quietly, still not taking his eyes from the screen. The man moved the paddle around a little, getting a proper angle before telling them. A girl. It was a girl.

A girl. Greg could hardly breathe. When Mycroft had asked for the gender, Greg had sucked in a breath and still hadn’t let it out. Didn’t know if he could. He couldn’t make heads or tails of what they were seeing, but the doc had said that the baby seemed to be in a showy mood as he moved the paddle down then happily announced that they were expecting a girl, and a healthy one at that. Greg’s hand twitched, squeezing Mycroft’s shoulder a bit and his jaw drop.

“You sure?” He asked and the doc nodded then explained how he knew.

Greg felt a little weird having someone explain his little girl’s bits so thoroughly, then almost laughed at himself. Then he really did start laughing. Breathless, awed huffs as he scraped his hand through his hair. “Jesus. That’s our girl. Jesus.” He couldn’t honestly remember the last time he had felt so awestruck. His heart was hammering in his chest, which felt too tight, and he was light headed from feeling so damn happy. “Blimey, I can’t wait to hold her.”

“I’m just going to do a few more runs to see if I can get clear pictures of her vital organs and then you and Detective Inspector Lestrade will be free to go, Mr Holmes.” Greg barely registered that the doc spoke, still completely engrossed by the news. All he could manage was a little nod. Frankly, he could stay there all day and stare at the screen, but that might not be good for Mycroft.

Greg’s mood was infectious and Mycroft couldn’t bring himself to care. He smiled when the man started talking, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Mycroft found he couldn’t wait for her to be in his arms either. So he didn’t know what to do with a girl, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try. Their girl, Greg said. Not only a girl but theirs. They’d made her. Mycroft’s chest felt tight as he realised he had no idea what to think of that. And he wondered, with Greg right there, seeing their child as well, how he had ever thought he could be so detached from the man. He closed his eyes and bit his lip before glancing at the DI, who looked like he was about to pass out from the sheer joy he was experiencing. If anything else, Mycroft was glad he wasn’t going to be raising her alone and that is was Gregory Lestrade who would be her father. They might not be a couple, but they could damn well work together to see to that she was raised right and well, with both parents in her life.

The doctor made a few more scans, Mycroft catching a glimpse of the little string of pearls that was her spine. Finally, he told them that everything looked healthy and well-formed for this stage and left the Alpha and the Omega be, leaving Mycroft with a cloth to wipe of the gel and an ultrasound picture, one that had gotten most of her and had her sucking her thumb. Mycroft looked at the picture for a long moment before handing it to Greg. “I’m going to go get changed.” He told the man quietly, his eyes still a little wet and his lips still curved upward. It was all just breath taking and he didn’t know if he trusted himself to say any more than that.

Greg had looked down when he felt eyes on him and caught Mycroft looking up at him. Greg smiled down at him, feeling a little watery himself. There were tears clinging to his eye lashes and his smile was probably a bit foolish, but he felt entitled to be smiling like an idiot, already completely enamoured for the wee thing in Mycroft’s belly. And maybe a bit for the man himself. Honestly, he didn’t know what to do with his emotions, but he knew that if they were actually together, he would have kissed Mycroft right then and there, right in front of the doctor.

Instead he rubbed his hand up and down Mycroft’s shoulder, gave him a light squeeze again, and then looked back up at the monitor. It was just them reacting to the magic of the moment, no need to ruin it with rash behaviour. It didn’t ruin his mood though, he was still on cloud nine especially when he was handed the perfect picture. Oh he didn’t care what the boys were going to say, he was going to make a copy and make everyone at the station down right sick with his pride for his little girl. He would show off the ultrasound still until someone threatened to shoot him.

“I’ll wait here for you,” he said softly, backing away to give Mycroft his space. He didn’t know for sure, but Mycroft seemed to need a moment. “Let me know if you need anything, yeah?”

Mycroft nodded and disappeared behind the curtain, pulling it closed. Going over to the sofa, he sat down, not bothering to take his gown off just yet and ran his hands over his stomach, stroking the firm bump. A girl. A daughter. His heat swelled and two fat tears rolled down his cheeks. His little girl was in there. The man at quietly, just picturing her as he stroked the bump and let himself be a little emotional. Eventually, he pulled himself together and got out of the damnable gown and back into his own clothes. Layers. Keep her warm and safe. He cradled his stomach carefully once more before letting his hands drop and pulling the curtain back.

“Ready to go?” He asked, smiling a little at the way Greg was looking so fondly at the picture. He imagined the girl would become Greg’s pride and joy, as well as his own, but likely shown in a slightly different way. He could imagine Greg’s office years from now being covered wall to wall with crayon drawings and photos, while Mycroft might have one or two, showing his love more though sending her to the best day-care possible and spoiling her rotten. He smirked. It was quite a picture. One he found he liked and looked forward to completely.

Greg looked up from the photo and beamed, his smile just a hint self-deprecating. He probably shouldn’t be so attached to a picture of a four and a half month foetus already, but as far as he was concerned, she was already his little girl. “Yeah. I got the rest of the day off so…” he shrugged. He didn’t know what he was going to do with himself. Probably go to the local book store and find more books. Maybe ones on baby names. Oh well, now that was a thought. But maybe one for later. Mycroft looked ready to collapse on a cushy surface and just veg.

“Let me see you home? I know you probably think I am ridiculous and less than an hour ago I think you wanted to strangle me, but I am naturally over protective. Better start getting used to that now.” Greg flashed a bright smile though his eyes said that he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He knew he wouldn’t be able to rest until he saw Mycroft, with their precious girl, get home safely. And that was that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft is hospitalized.

Greg was at his desk when the call came. He was having a personal moment to himself, his head buried in his hands while he focused on just breathing. Yesterday they had found the fourth body, this time a young male Omega. Same circumstances as the others; poisoned; three months pregnant and only twenty seven. It wasn't often that Greg encountered an Alpha broken down in tears, let alone an ex-marine. According to the partner, Alfie James had returned home from work as a temp throwing up. He claimed to have eaten something that didn't agree with the baby at lunch, but the vomiting didn't stop and then the convulsions hit. The Alpha, Andrew Reynolds, had called A&E but they were too late.

The worse part for Greg was when he inspected the body, he could smell the pregnancy hormones now because of Mycroft. Not even two weeks ago he had been at a clinic, swooning over the ultrasounds of his little girl, his copy now plastered to the wall. But now there was an Alpha who lost both his Omega and child and it was a little hard to cope. He wasn’t bound to Mycroft in any sense, but he knew that if anything like that happened to Mycroft and their daughter, Greg would lose it. He would absolutely lose it. He was having a hard enough time in getting his shite together just from the last murder when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

With a soft sigh he dug his hand into his coat and drew it out. He didn't think it was immediately Mycroft since he always texted first, so when Greg saw that it was Anthea calling, needless to say his heart rate went up. It was agreed more or less that she would be the one to call him if something happened to Mycroft that was bad enough that the man himself could not call. With the baby only at five months, Greg immediately assumed the worse.

"Detective, this is Anthea, Mr. Holmes had a medical emergency at home. Emergency services have been called; he will soon be en-route to hospital soon. He requested that I informed you of the matter."

-

_Mycroft’s day started as it would any other. He got up around 6am, went to use the restroom and clean up a little. Granted, his mornings were a little different from what they used to be. He got up an hour later than he used to and had taken to going down and eating breakfast before he got dressed and took a shower. Frankly, he wasn’t sure how he’d ever skipped breakfast in the mornings before the pregnancy, because these days, he woke up hungry and always did his best to satisfy it._

_Today was one of his days at home, he’d slowly started having two days off every other week now that he’d passed the five month mark, and for that, he was grateful. His back had been acting up rather badly this week. It wasn’t a week he met up with Greg, which had been last week (their third meeting, ultrasound not included), so he was simply permitted to relax and get a little paperwork done. Stretching as he finished up his business in the bathroom, the man adjusted the knot on the belt of his robe before heading downstairs. Unfortunately, it wasn’t without incident._

_The Omega trudged down each step, yawning. He did fine until the bottom three. That’s when he lost his balance. Flailing, he tried to find something to grab onto, but he overcorrected. He did managed to find the railing, but he did so in the same moment that his feet slipped from under him, one just sliding out of the way, the other coming down on the next step, but not at a good angle. The Omega thankfully landed on his backside, but he barely noticed as there was a sickening crunching noise and sharp, white pain lanced through his leg, causing him to cry out. Once all movement stopped, he was left sitting on the step behind him, his tailbone bruised as his entire body shook. The pain was horrific and dizzying; his face red and pinched as he tried to keep himself conscious. Within him, the baby kicked, obviously distressed. He sat there for a long time, wrestling with the agony until he could think clearly enough to do something else. Thankfully, he had his phone in his robe. Taking it out with shaky hands, he called his PA._

_“Anthea, I need to be taken to... the hospital. I’ve fallen and I’m fairly sure my ankle’s broken.” He told her, unable to keep the pain from his voice. “I don’t think anything else is damaged.. but I can’t tell for sure…” The Omega closed his eyes and swallowed thickly, trying to concentrate. “Also… I need you to notify Gregory…”_

-

Greg's world fell away at the calm, impersonal message from Mycroft's assistant. It felt like moving through mud as he shot out of his chair to grab his coat while demanding for the name of the hospital from Anthea while yelling to Sally that he had an emergency. By then not a single person at NSY didn't know that he was a soon to be father and no one got in the way of an Alpha about to be a parent. Within minutes he was in the car, sirens blaring with an extreme abuse of power, and only half paying attention to Anthea. All he knew was that Mycroft was in hospital and Greg had to get there that bloody minute.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the dead Omega as he drove, hitting almost every red light and it not matter in the least. Though he was fairly certain that Anthea would have told him if Mycroft had been poisoned or something of that effect, he just couldn’t help it. She had said that there had been a medical emergency at the home, no elaboration on what that emergency was, so naturally, Greg’s mind was a total bitch and by the time he turned onto the road for the hospital, he was a bit of a nervous wreck.

Mycroft was about ready to take someone's head off. He was in pain, there were strange people in his home asking him too many questions and none of them other than Anthea was wearing any sort of scent masker. He growled as one of the paramedics tried to touch him. It wasn't until it was explained that they were trying to give him a painkiller that was safe for the baby did he finally let them near. With two pills down his throat that left him feeling a little woozy and an injection to numb the pain, he was loaded into the ambulance, the paramedics following, his PA getting in after. He had only been vaguely aware of the woman calling Greg during the whole thing, but that almost had a calming effect on him. Greg was going to be there. His Omega side told him that was a good thing and, feeling groggy, he could only agree. Regardless, he had his arms wrapped around his belly protectively.

The ride didn't take long and soon, they were at the Wellington, the hospital Mycroft had designated for him to be taken to should there ever be an emergency. He was rushed in. With the combination of being both an important diplomat and a pregnant Omega (a realisation they seemed to make when he was wheeled through the door), he was seen to very quickly. The wooziness was starting to wear off and his ankle still hurt despite what they had given him. He supposed that the things that you could take while pregnant weren't as strong as others. And then they were talking to him again, telling him what they were going to have to do. His ankle was in fact broken and they were going to have to realign the bone and put it in a splint and that was probably going to hurt but he was just going to have to bear with them. He nodded and suddenly there was more pain, though this time he just grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. Once the bone was in place, it was splinted and he was given another pain killer. Then other doctors were poking at him again and he didn't want them near him. Soon he was snapping, growling and glaring at every one of them.

Greg had got to the hospital in half the time, only to have to deal with politics. Without proof of bonding or marriage, he wasn't allowed past the hateful red line where he knew Mycroft to be. Even through the thick, aggravating fog of scents, he could still pick up Mycroft's unique marker and the fact that he still had to wade through other people to get to his Omega was turning him into the stereotypical aggressive Alpha arsehole.

"Look lady, I may not have the proper paperwork but if you don't let me through to see my Omega I will rip your bleeding throat out! He's carrying my kid and he's hurt and I'm going to get to him regardless what you think!" The Alpha woman growled right back at him, a tall, bulky nurse that should have been a club bouncer. Or a warden.

"And I do not care that you are an Alpha or a police officer, Sir. Until Mr Holmes is..." the hulking brunette didn't get another word out because Greg suddenly caught Mycroft's scent, faint as it was, to find Anthea standing there carrying her employer's scent since she was masking her own. That made her the only person he had come across so far that he didn't instinctively wanted to rip apart.

"He's this way," she said without even looking up from her Blackberry, typical. But Greg didn't argue. He flashed the Alpha head nurse a wide, condescending grin then stalked after Anthea. If he walked a little too close because of her smell, she didn't so much as flick a look at him. He backed off a bit though when they got closer to Mycroft then outright ran ahead once he knew exactly where to find the man. Only to find Mycroft surrounded by medical staff, most of them not wearing scent maskers, which meant that the usually collected DI greeted the lot of them with a deep, throaty growl that wasn't quite human, hunched up like he was ready to pounce.

"Get the hell away from him." Later he would probably have a hoot by how far some of them jumped. Right then he only saw red.

Mycroft was aware that Anthea left, but barely paid it any mind. She wasn't the one bothering him. Everyone else was; their scents sharp and unwanted to his nose. He just wanted to go home and was being as vicious as a territorial Alpha towards every single one of them. He wanted them out if his face and to stop crowding him. "Leave me the fuck alone! My blood pressure's already been taken twice; it doesn't need to be taken for a third time! Maybe if you would just leave it would go down! No, I didn't fall on my stomach! I've already said this! I landed on my backside and came down on my ankle wrong! I feel fine!" He was seriously about to strangle one of them when a familiar scent touched his nose. Greg. Mycroft started to calm down almost immediately, even more so as the scent got stronger. One of the doctor's took advantage of the distraction to slide a needle into his veins and secure an IV. It took all the restraint he had not to pull away. Anthea then returned, Greg in tow and the Alpha snapped at them, everyone in the room other than Mycroft and Anthea recoiling.

The doctors and nurses backed off, some whispering about "I though Mr. Holmes didn't have a mate..." "He doesn't, that's just the father, they aren't bonded." "Then why-" Mycroft blocked them out from there, finally able to just breath. He glared at everyone, all of them seemingly very intimidated by the pair of them. "I would appreciate it if I was left alone for a little while." He demanded, glancing at Greg to give him a look that said that order didn't include him. "I am fine other than the ankle and should I need anything, I will call. Now leave before I have you all fired!" Suddenly the room was very empty, other than Greg, himself and Anthea. Mycroft let out a long breath before leaning back on his hospital bed, looking drained, and closed his eyes, an annoyed look creasing his brow. "I'm assuming you'll want to know what happened?" He asked quietly, opening them again to look at the Alpha.

Greg pointedly looked at Mycroft's splinted ankle then at his morning attire. "I think I can guess," he said shortly, finally meeting Mycroft's eyes. He was still on the edge from all of the other scents, not to mention he hadn't slept properly in two days, work was killing him, and the last thing he needed was to get a call telling him that Mycroft was in hospital. He raked his hand through his hair and forced a deep breath through his nose. The other scents were starting to fade and the strong hit of Mycroft’s pheromones was starting to clear his head. "But yeah, I want to know your account and how bad is the damage?"

Mycroft still looked a little indignant, but was calming down. He sighed, sitting up again to look at his splinted ankle over his belly and pulled a face. "My stairs and I didn't get along very well this morning. My balance had been off and I slipped. I suppose I'm lucky as it could have been a lot worse. I managed to catch myself, but not before I came down on my ankle wrong. It's broken enough to need a splint and I'll have to get a cast and crutches, but its not so bad as to where I'll need surgery." He recounted for Greg, a little sourly. "I landed on my arse, and my tailbone is a little bruised, but the baby seems fine, if not a little over active at the moment..." Mycroft cupped his stomach carefully, taking a few deep breaths. "She hasn't calmed down much since it happened and I don't blame her. She's been as distressed as I have...." He sighed, looking back to Greg and taking in the man's appearance. Hadn't slept well, likely due to the difficulty the case was causing as well as the fact that Greg was probably now able to relate to it. This whole fiasco probably wasn't doing any good. "I'm sorry. I can tell the past few days have been rough for you and I'm sure this doesn't help..." He said quietly, breathing in Greg's scent and letting it calm him.

Greg huffed out a breath to release the rest of his frustration. They were both worse for wear and Mycroft especially didn't need any more crap in his life. "No, and I'd be mad at you for not being careful, but accidents happen. I'm just glad it wasn't anything worse than a broken ankle." Though Anthea had explained the situation, all he could think about on his way to Wellington was the dead Omega from yesterday and picturing Mycroft pale and ashen and dead, the tiny body inside of him, their baby gone. A candle snuffed out before the flame could reach its full potential.

The thoughts were doing him no good, making him tilt his head back to collect himself. Mycroft was fine, the baby was fine, they were all fine. Just fine. "Just fine," he repeated out loud, mostly to himself. He had to stuff his hands into his pockets though because the urge to touch Mycroft, hell to cover the Omega with his scent was overwhelming. Mycroft didn’t smell enough like him, wasn’t displaying the fact that he was claimed (until the baby arrived) and it was driving Greg nuts.

“So, what are your options?”

"Options?" Mycroft blinked, still a little groggy from the painkillers now that he was relaxed and it took him a moment. "Oh. You mean what I am going to do while it heals." The Omega's brow furrowed, sighing as he remember. "Normally, I would just be allowed to go home once they get me in a cast or something of the like, though I wouldn't be allowed to walk on it for a while, but since I'm pregnant, I seem to be at more risk of falling again, so my options are either me staying here for the duration or going home, but only if I have someone with me in the house to help me with things. I don't like either option to be completely honest. I loathe the idea of staying here for that long- oh, yes, apparently it will take about six weeks to heal properly." He stated bitterly, looking very put out. "But, I don't like the idea of a stranger in my home helping me do things either."

“I’ll stay with you,” Greg blurted without thinking. Even the assistant glanced up at him and he felt his cheeks burn. Him staying with Mycroft for six weeks? That was probably the worst idea in the history of ever, but the more he let it set in his own head, the more he wondered why he thought it was a bad idea. He nodded once with resolve, hands slipping out of his pockets to brace on his hips.

“I’d probably end up murdering someone if I smell too many people on you, let’s face it we are what we are, and it makes sense if I’m the only one you can stand. Your flat’s not far from the Met, I’m entitled to take some time off. I’ll still have to work but I don’t see you accepting anyone coddling you 24/7. So yeah, I’ll stay over and help. Unless you have a problem with that?”

Mycroft blinked. In a way, it did make sense. It made the same kind of sense as using someone as a sperm donor because they were there and willing (which he still felt a good bit guilty about), but it was also different. Greg was the only one who he could stand to be around anymore. Another thought entered his mind while he considered this as well. Greg could help set up the nursery, which was woefully unfinished, were he there. The Alpha had requested to help with that and it wasn't like he could do that in his current state. By the time he healed... Good Lord, he'd be almost seven months pregnant by the time he'd healed properly. Crutches were going to get rather difficult; though he was fairly sure he'd heard someone say something about a walking cast. Still.. The man sighed.

"Alright, yes, fine. You can stay. I'd probably kill whoever they'd send to coddle me anyway." Mycroft said shortly. "You're the only scent I can stand to be around. So. I guess that's that."

Greg had been ready to argue his point until Mycroft conceded just to make Greg shut up. He had not been expecting the man to give up so easily. It was the best idea all things considered, but still. He had expected a wee fight. Negotiations. Something. Greg’s whole demeanour shifted, going from stubborn to eager in two seconds.

“Yeah?” He mentally kicked himself for sounding like such a child and coughed to clear his throat. “I mean, good. Yeah. I’ll head to the flat to pick up a couple of things first while you’re getting cleared out of here. You going to be alright with that? Staying here and wait for me? I’ll drive you home too if it’ll help. This place is on my way from my place to yours anyways. I think.”

Greg’s eyes screwed up to stare at the ceiling in thought. it occurred to him that he had yet to be at Mycroft’s flat. In fact, he didn’t actually know the man’s address, just the general area. Well that was about to change, it seemed..

Mycroft hadn’t been in the mood to argue. He was tense and annoyed and he wasn’t about to disagree with the only person he could stand to be around. “Yes, that’s fine. Though I suggest you take the panda, which I’m positive you drove here, back to the Yard and allow a car to take you back to your flat to get your things. I’d rather not be seen toted around in a police car after all of this.” He paused, grimacing.

“I know you were expecting me to fight you on this, but really, it’s the best choice. You’re the only one I seem to be able to stand being around.” And the only one I can trust. “I’m not particularly happy with the situation, but what is, is. I don’t trust myself not to fall again, especially in my current state. Besides, you mentioned once that you’d like to help ready my home for the baby’s arrival, so we can kill two birds with one stone as I certainly won’t be able to do much myself like this.” The elder Holmes sighed.

“So yes, I can sit tight and wait. The doctors seem to have some other dealings with me, though I can tell they won’t be crowding me again. We’ve made it loud and clear for them what will happen if they do. They all prepared themselves to deal with a diplomat with a broken ankle, but I can tell they missed the ‘pregnant Omega’ part. If they value their jobs, they’ll all have put on scent maskers when they come back in.”

“What’s wrong with the Panda?” Greg muttered under his breath, indignant. He liked the pandas. They were good, reliable cars and could honestly look worse. Well, the recent design wasn’t anything to be proud of, but still. “They’re good cars,” he added in a whisper even though Mycroft talked right over him as if Greg didn’t utter a word. He wondered how many people had to get used to that from the elder Holmes. Probably a lot.

Mycroft gained all of his attention though when he started talking about putting Greg to use on the nursery, which Greg had no complaints against at all. He had been that dad the moment he found out they were going to have a girl, searching online for nursery ideas, picking up color swaths from local hardware stores, badgering other officers he knew to have kids as well. It was his payback for their teasing at the beginning of the whole thing. And now Mycroft was all but handing over the reigns and Mycroft may or may not come to regret that decision.

“Yeah, I probably have the time to switch cars. But you call me if something comes up, alright?” Greg dropped his hand over Mycroft’s, the physical contact an immediate and much needed comfort. Mycroft seemed to be getting less annoyed with Greg’s touching, which was good. He better expect them a lot more often too once they were housing together. Even if only for six weeks.

 “Trust me, you shall be notified if they find anything more than just the ankle, though I doubt they will.” He replied, surprisingly not bothered by Greg’s touch. He was growing accustomed to the man and, while he blamed it mostly on the hormones, he allowed it because the closeness calmed him. “It may take a while for them to make a proper cast and I’ll likely have to be in a wheelchair for a few days.” The Omega didn’t look the least bit pleased about that. “The only saving grace is that I’ll get to go home sooner rather than later.” Anthea looked up at him, catching his eyes and nodding. Ah, good. He returned the nod with one of his own in acknowledgement.

“It also seems that a personal doctor of mine, not the one you met, has arrived and he shall be fielding most of the questions and dealings. He’s an Omega, all of my personal doctors are, so I doubt you’ll be facing the protectiveness you seem to be experiencing regarding me around him. It also means things should be cleared up much more quickly. You get what you need to from your flat. I assure you, I’ll still be here. Unfortunately.” He looked around the room with distaste. At least the clinic had been private and familiar. Here he was not only being poked and prodded, but by strangers in a place he wasn’t used to.

Greg looked between Mycroft and Anthea when they seemed to have a telepathic moment. Seriously, how did they do that? A skill like that would come in handy at his job, that was for sure, but he wasn’t sure if he would last a day with someone like Mycroft’s assistant. She would probably kill him within a few hours and make it look like an accident.

“Right,” he said with a pat to Mycroft’s hand before finally pulling back. He blamed it on the hormones for why he was so reluctant to leave. Mycroft was in a hospital, he was safe. Greg knew that. Logically. “So yeah just... call me if you need anything.”

Finally he pulled himself away from the Omega, shot a nod at the assistant, who ignored him, then forced himself out of the room. It took extreme strength of will not to turn right back when he was hit with too many strange pheromones, but somehow he managed to get out of the clinic and back to his car. One thing he knew for sure though, the next six weeks were going to be a trial and a half if they were that bad already.

Mycroft watched him go, blinking before trying to relax, even as Greg’s scent faded. The coming weeks were going to be interesting. He hadn’t lived with anyone since his youth. There were so many implications and so many things that would have to be arranged. He grimaced when he realised they’d have to work out sleeping arrangements. He went over the layout of his townhouse carefully, realising he had originally had two guest bedrooms, but now he only had one, because he’d cleared out the other for the nursery and that one was upstairs and the one that was still a guest bedroom was downstairs. The man pulled a face. With the state of his leg, he’d have to move into the downstairs bedroom, which meant Greg would be sleeping either in his own bedroom or on the sofa. One was entirely too private and the other seemed rude. He stopped looking sour about bedrooms when his doctor came it.

His ankle was examined carefully, but not touched. The bone was in place and splinted well enough for the other man’s approval. He asked Mycroft a few, simple questions and then had him go over exactly how he fell, writing it down as he listened. He then told Mycroft that he wouldn’t be able to have a cast for about six days until the swelling went down and they could do the measurements properly. That being said, the elder Holmes would be allowed to return to his townhouse, but he would be wheelchair bound until then and would need the most help in that time period as he wouldn’t be allowed to put any sort of weight on that foot. Once the six days were up. He would return to the hospital to insure he had healed properly and have a cast made. Whether or not that cast would be a walking cast would remain to be seen. Mycroft thought it didn’t sound like the most ideal situation, but it was better than what it could have been.

The one good thing he got out of the divorce was the car. He lost everything from the house to the plasma telly, but he got to keep the Audi. Susan was at least generous enough, though it took him weeks of arguing the point that the woman didn’t even drive. But that was all said and done and if Mycroft complained about the silver 2008 model, he could kiss Greg’s pasty bum. It might not be the most stylish thing Mycroft had ever driven in, but it was the best the man was going to get.

This time when Greg entered the hospital he was given a wide berth. The cheeky Alpha only glared at him when he entered, having probably just figured out who exactly Mycroft was and where Greg stood with him. He flashed the woman his most insincere smile and boldly walked right up to the room they had Mycroft in. The door was closed but Anthea stood outside of it, so hopefully it meant that Mycroft was getting dressed or discharged. Or both. The sooner they got out of there, the better. Then to whatever misadventure awaited them.

“If you can give me any pointers on how to manage him, that would be swell.” He waited half a beat for a response from the assistant but he didn’t even get a twitch. Sighing, Greg leaned up against the wall and waited.

Mycroft had a flexible, temporary cast wrapped around his splint. It was removable and it was recommended that he should do exactly that from time to time to check the swelling and put a cold compress on it while he was relaxing. Which should be often. He was then instructed on how he should bathe with the splint on, which made him cringe internally. It required a lot of second party help. But he wasn’t about to stay at the hospital, so he would just have to buck up and live with it. It wasn’t like Greg hadn’t seen him naked before and with luck would understand his want for discretion when such a situation came about.

Mycroft had little doubt these following weeks would be trying. He was going to have to work from home at least until he got a walking cast and Greg would have to be around until he was no longer at risk of falling from the mix of being in a cast and being unbalanced enough already. They’d be at each other’s throats. Greg was fairly eager to please though and would try to see to whatever Mycroft needed, so maybe it would work out.

A wheelchair was brought in by a nurse soon after, Mycroft fairly sure he saw a glimpse of Greg waiting outside. His doctor explained to him the basics of it and then went to the door to fetch Greg. Apparently since the Alpha was going to have to help him in and out of it, he was going to need to learn how to do just that and helping Mycroft into the chair from the bed was as good a place to start as any.

"So what is your favourite method of killing? We talking stealth and ninja assassin skills like Black Widow or is your style more like Famke Jansen from Goldeneye, kill them with your thighs?" Greg's preferred method to pass the time by getting a rise out of Anthea was likely suicide, but luckily a doctor came out to grab him before she could demonstrate exactly how she would kill a man. Then again he had seen them wheel in the chair and new it was only a matter of time before they were interrupted. For once in his life he had good timing.

"Mr Holmes informed us that you will be his primary caregiver during his recovery, Detective Inspector. First I am going to have you help Mr Holmes into the chair and then we will go from there on introducing you to your new duties." Greg nodded at the doc's words then listened aptly as the man explained exactly what Greg needed to do. Sure that he wasn't going to drop Mycroft on the first try, he placed his hands where he had been instructed with his arms out for Mycroft to grab onto and brace against.

"Ready when you are, Myc."

 Mycroft made a face, obviously still very displeased with the situation, but he didn’t fight it when Greg got a good hold on him, biting his lip. It was utterly embarrassing that he had to be helped like this, but he was at least grateful that he had any help at all. If this had happened and Greg had still been in the dark about the pregnancy, he would have been forced to have a stranger whose scent he wouldn’t have been able to stand helping him. No, Greg’s scent was superior by far.

Taking a deep breath, he braced himself with Greg’s arms, still unsure about the entire process. His ankle was still throbbing, a constant reminder of just how painful it would be if he hit it against something. He was going to have to be very careful. Closing his eyes for a long moment, he let out a long breath and nodded, focusing on what needed to be done.

“All right. I’m ready.”

“Gonna be easy as pie” Greg promised, tensing his muscles to brace. “You gotta trust me though, alright? On three just stand up and let my guide you. I don’t want you in any more pain than you do,” Greg said waiting for another nod from Mycroft. he had had some experience in tending to people with broken limbs or bad hips so getting Mycroft into the wheelchair was almost rote by then.

After the count to three he pulled while Mycroft lifted, slowly pulling him up onto his good leg. It took a bit of effort on their part, it was like trying to dance with a new partner but Greg held onto Mycroft firmly and guided him gently into the chair. He had meant it, he didn’t want to see Mycroft in any more pain, not if it could stress out the baby and Greg did care about the man himself.

Even without the pheromones doing their job in forcing a bond to ensure that both parties did their damnedest to care for the baby. Greg knew that even if Mycroft wasn’t pregnant with his kid, he probably would still be there, helping the poor sod into a wheelchair if he had been asked to.

Mycroft nodded and did what Greg asked. The man seemed to know what he was doing. There was a point that Mycroft thought he might fall, his balance swaying, but the DI did well to keep him from ever scuffing his foot or tipping over. Inwardly, Mycroft was grateful, noticing the hints of determination that showed on Greg’s face. The man was doing his best to keep Mycroft and their child safe, even if that meant making sure the Omega didn’t go arse up for the time being.

Once he was settled in the chair, he let out a small breath of relief. That wasn’t as bad as he’d thought it would be. As comfortable as he could get, the doctor looking on with approval, he was prescribed with a daily pain medication that was safe for the baby as well as one to use should the pain be worse at any time, which the doctor said could happen during the first six days.

The care of his ankle was then laid down for both of them. He was to rest as much as possible and stay off his foot no matter what. Crutches would be provided, but weren’t recommended for extended periods of use, aka use them to go from the bed to the bathroom and back if Greg wasn’t around (and that that particular distance should be minimized as much as possible) and for emergencies.

Resignedly, Mycroft memorized every instruction given. Hopefully, once he healed to the point that he could have a walking cast, he wouldn’t be so dependent on Greg. Regardless, it was going to be a long six days and an even longer six weeks.

Despite managing to get Mycroft into the chair without incident, it was evident that the Omega was still not at all pleased by the situation. Not that Greg blamed him of course. A broken bone anywhere was bad business and their arrangement promised that things would probably be awkward as hell for a while. But Greg was a firm believer that so as long as it didn’t end up in a brutal murder, things weren’t so bad. Probably a morbid way of thinking, but the thanks for that could go to his job.

“I just have one question,” Greg said after everything had been laid out and he had reign of the chair. “You’re coming to him for check-ups, right? Cause I have to tell ya, Doc, that head nurse of yours is the devil.” He almost crowed in joy right there when he actually heard a small snort from Anthea. At least he was a little more confident that the woman wasn’t a bloody robot.

The doctor raised an eyebrow, but told the man he would, indeed make house calls as he was more or less one of Mycroft’s few personal doctors. He then explained that Mycroft would, however, have to come back to the hospital to had his cast made and put on as such equipment wasn’t easy to transport.

Mycroft glared down at his bound and splinted ankle for a moment, a sneer quirking his lips for a single second. Who knew a leg could cause you so much trouble. He glanced back up at the doctor, listening as the man wrapped things up.

Satisfied, he reached back and tried to find where the wheelchair break was so they could get going, only to discover it was in the back where he couldn’t reach it. Typical. He was in one of those insufferable chairs that would require someone else to push it (or at least unlock it, though from looking at the wheels, he got the distinct feeling they would pinch his fingers if he tried to roll the chair himself). Wonderful. Just wonderful. And he thought this experience couldn’t get any worse.

As soon as Greg had the go to get Mycroft out of that damn place he grabbed the handles, kicked the locks off, and pushed the chair out. It didn’t even occur to him to wait to see if Mycroft wanted to try and wheel himself out Greg just wanted to get them out since he knew that as soon as they left the private room they would be bombarded by the smells of other Alphas or Omegas.

Unfortunately, he was right. It seemed that everyone’s heads snapped to look at them as Greg was forced to push Mycroft out the front entrance instead of a more discreet exit. He saw the flare of nostrils from the Alphas, all getting a whiff of a pregnant Omega and one even had the gall to growl at Greg like he had been the cause of Mycroft breaking his ankle. He didn’t growl back though, but he did shoot the bastard a sharp look, and just concentrated on pushing Mycroft out to the car. He did have an insane second where he was tempted to just pick the man up and carry Mycroft off himself, but managed to refrain.

“I am not looking forward to having to come back here,” he bent low to mutter in Mycroft’s ear. “I feel like everyone is silently accusing me of abuse and I know those looks. I give those looks in my line of work too often and I don’t appreciate getting those looks!” He knew that he shouldn’t be complaining, Mycroft was the one with the broken ankle after all, but still. He didn’t like being criticized by strangers for something he didn’t cause. Damn nosy busy bodies.

Mycroft saw the entire interaction between the father of his child and every Alpha in the waiting room. Needless to say, he wasn’t pleased. It was obvious everyone seemed to think Greg was somehow to blame for his current state. Though he had to admit, it was rather impressed with Gregory’s restraint. He imagined if he was an Alpha, he’d be ready to take off the head of whoever challenged him. That being said, he wasn’t an Alpha (obviously) and he honestly couldn’t say he knew what it was like to be one. He just acted like one around his associates. Though, recently, there hadn’t been much point in doing that. No one was fooled, what with his growing belly becoming more and more obvious with each passing week.

He eyed Greg’s car as they approached it. … Well, it could be worse. However, he was inclined to agree with the DI when he spoke. “Trust me, I look forward to returning no more than you do. I hate hospitals. Even in the higher class ones, it’s all about getting things done first and the patient’s comfort second, if at all.” He spat, shifting in the chair. “Though this whole situation has been rather uncomfortable, so I suppose it’s just one more thing to complain about.”

The Omega twisted, glancing up at Greg. This really was going to be an interesting couple of weeks. Who knew how they would act towards each other after being exposed to each other for a long period of time. It had the potential to be a disaster as much as it did for things to go well. But it was the best option. He didn’t really trust anyone else other than Anthea and if he was truly incapacitated as it was, he was going to need to rely on her to keep things running at the office. Besides, it was good practice. He and Greg were going to be raising a child together, so they might as well learn to get along now.

"Hospitals are a toss-up for me, really. It's either I get special treatment for being a cop or I get told to suck it up and be an Alpha."

Greg wheeled Mycroft to the passenger side of the Audi then had a moment's pause. Admittedly, it was not a car for tall people. He had issues at 5'11 and Mycroft was at least three inches taller. And there was the whole issue of getting Mycroft inside the car without banging up his ankle. He thought that maybe he should have kept the Panda. It at least had a bigger front cab.

"Okay, we're going to have to go slow on this so we don't bash your head in or crush your ankle. If it gets to the point where I just full out lift you, do me a favour and don't fight me or we will both end up on the floor."

Mycroft grimaced. The last thing he wanted to happen was to be lifted into a car like an invalid. No, he’d work with Greg as best he could to avoid that. But, if all else failed.. The man sighed. “I promise I won’t fight it if it comes to that, though I doubt it will be easy that way and may be even more hazardous. I’m not exactly light.”

In fact, he was a good bit heavier from the last time Greg had lifted him (no, he hadn’t forgotten that) and he had been against a wall as well. And, well, it wasn’t exactly all baby. After changing his diet early on, Mycroft had put on weight rather quickly. It was a somewhat sombre reminder as to why he dieted in the first place. Mycroft Holmes was not a man who could get away with eating anything. That thought was enough to make him sigh internally. He was going to have a hell of a time losing the baby weight.

So, he was pulled carefully from the chair and manoeuvred into the car. It was likely one of the most awkward things he’d ever done, with his own attempts to cling to anything possible (the car, the car door, Greg’s clothes, Greg) to keep his balance and stop from bumping his ankle against anything. At one point, Greg had had to take almost all his weight. Once inside, Mycroft’s face was a flustered red and the man seemed have decided that the windshield was the most interesting thing in the world and refused to look at anything else.

Mycroft really hadn’t been kidding. By the time they got him inside Greg was panting for breath and red in the face from the exertion. They got him in though without incident, except for maybe a loss of dignity on both ends and Mycroft learning just how extensive Greg’s vocabulary could be, but the important part was over. But good God Greg was not looking forward to getting Mycroft out of the car. He hoped to hell there weren’t any stairs getting into the flat or they may be screwed.

“Okay then. That wasn’t so bad,” he huffed, hands on his hips and bent forward a little. He gave Mycroft the best reassuring grin he could before shutting the passenger door then off to tend to the task of getting the chair into the boot, (which proved harder than it looked and resulted in a ding in the rear bumper.) By the time he got in the driver side, he was once more flushed red, though more from frustration, and ready to go home. Except, his home wasn’t the destination. That brought his mood down only a tad bit.

“Right. How do I get to yours?”

 Mycroft blinked a few times before finally glancing over at Greg, processing the question. “Oh, yes. Of course. It’s not too far from here actually. I assume you remember the area you dropped me off in after the ultrasound, so heading that direction would be a good start. I’ll direct you from there.” His voice was calm and composed, like what had just happened had never occurred and wasn’t going to happen again when they got to his townhouse. The Omega straightened his back and smoothed over his pyjamas as though they were an expensive suit. It really was embarrassing to be caught out like this, but he could do little about it now. Greg had seen him in worse.

He slid his hand across the bottom of his belly discreetly after a moment. Their daughter had calmed down a good bit, now especially, with all the stressors gone. It was just him and Greg. The man’s scent was comfortable and it permeated the vehicle. Mycroft let out a long sigh. With each passing day, he grew less and less sure about what Greg was to him. The biological need played a part, but honestly, he wasn’t sure how much of it was just pheromones anymore. For now, he let the subject go in his mind.

When Greg finally rolled up in front of the townhouse, he really should have expected something so bloody posh, but Jesus. He was never, in his life, going to be able to afford such a place. Or if he did, not feel like a total ponce for living there. And he would have to spend six weeks at the minimum... that was going to be interesting.

“You literally are the British Government, aren’t you?” He asked as he killed the engine. Already he was feeling self-conscious about the Audi, like he should re-park it a few blocks away once he got Mycroft inside or something. It was completely ridiculous, but so was the town house.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about Gregory. You’ve obviously been listening to my brother too much. I occupy a minor position and nothing more.” He replied smoothly, shifting in his seat as he gazed out the window at his home. There was a single doorstep that he usually didn’t pay much mind to, but now he realized it might be a problem. Not so much than if he’d had numerous steps, but it was still an obstacle. He glanced at Greg, pointing it out.

“Do you think there’s any point in my getting back in the wheelchair before we get inside? Because it will take me all of two feet before I have to get out again to get over that.” He disliked the chair already and wished they had given him a pair of crutches, but no, he’d get those in a few days when his doctor came to check up on his progress. The Omega let out an exasperated sigh. Who knew having a broken ankle while pregnant could be so complicated.

Greg shrugged. “I had planned on just trying to wheel you over the step, to be honest, but yeah. I think we can manage fine.” It probably would have been what sent Mycroft flying out of the chair knowing their luck so best not risk that. Not with their little girl at risk. He did manage to get Mycroft into the car without too much of a problem, how difficult would it be to get him inside his home?

Greg discovered exactly how difficult it could be when one; Mycroft really was heavier than Greg anticipated, (not to mention heats and ruts tend to make weight not an issue, adrenaline lending to increase strength and all that.) Two; Greg wasn’t as young as he used to be either and had been doing more desk work as of late so by the time they got to Mycroft’s door they were a tangled, panting mess, Greg feared he might have bumped Mycroft’s ankle and they learned that they did not, in fact, work as well as Greg would have hoped.

“Jesus Christ, how can two grown men not get up one bloody step!” It was embarrassing, really, but thank God no one saw that. Unless Mycroft was under surveillance then a group of security just got their kicks for the week.

Mycroft swallowed as he clung to Greg’s shirt, looking particularly ruffled and a little spooked. “.... Next time, I’m going to just let you roll me over the step in the chair...” He managed once they were inside. Trying to regain his composure, he wobbled on one foot until he was leaning against the foyer wall, so it would support his weight, his left knee crooked to keep his foot off the ground as he caught his breath.

“I’ll... let you go get the chair, I’ll be right here.” It wasn’t like he could go anywhere else anyway. The Omega glanced into his home, but from this angle, he could only see the stairs. His jaw clenched as the traumatic experience he’d had on them not hours before flashed through his mind. His ankle throbbed. In truth, he was rather grateful that he’d be staying in the downstairs bedroom, for more than one reason.

“Chair. Yeah.” Greg turned about face and gladly walked back outside, if anything not to get depressed by the sheer size of the foyer alone. And he really needed a smoke, damn it. He was halfway to pulling out a cigarette from his pocket when he remembered something that he had read in one of the pregnancy books. Mycroft would be over sensitive to smells and the last thing they needed was for him to need Greg to carry him to the sink just to throw up and second hand smoke was dangerous to carrier and baby. So there went that.

“Why did I come up with this hair brained idea again?” he muttered as he broke the cigarette in half and vowed to throw the pack away. He had tried to quit last week so he should still have patches in the glove department. He better have bloody patches in the glove department. As his luck would prove, he did not, in fact have patches. More than likely, Sherlock stole them even though Greg didn't remember Sherlock being in his car in the past week. Not that he was much surprised. Fate apparently was dead set on the Holmes brothers making his life difficult.

Greg did kick himself for that though. It wasn’t like Mycroft meant to make his life difficult and he hadn’t been the one to design a wheelchair to not fit in the boot of an Audi properly the God damn piece of shite. Greg just barely managed not to do himself harm getting the thing out and then carried it back inside just to nearly kill his foot trying to open the bugger again and make sure it didn’t collapse on Mycroft as soon as he sat down. The plus side though was that Mycroft’s scent was working faster at getting him to calm down, so there was that.

“I can’t wait until you get crutches,” he said honestly then bypassed any dirty looks by getting a good look of the place. He did know layouts to townhouses as posh as Mycroft’s so he was pretty certain he spotted two guest rooms, one of which would be converted to accommodate Mycroft regardless, and a loo. That was all that was needed on Mycroft’s behalf and there was a sofa. Which might actually be more comfortable than Greg’s actual bed. of course it was.

“Now, here’s how we are doing this. You’re going to rest like the doctor ordered and I’m going to set you up. And I’ll be taking the couch in case there was any doubt in that unless both of those rooms are accommodating, which I doubt. I don’t think either of us wants to remember that stairs even exist for a very long time so we are going to avoid them as much as possible. Does that sound good to you?”

“It sounds as good as it’s going to get.” Mycroft wheeled in after him, trying not to pinch his fingers, which wasn’t easy. “But you’re right in that both rooms couldn’t accommodate an adult. In fact, only one could do that, so I’m guessing that’s where I’ll be. The other, well, it hasn’t had a normal sized bed in it for about a month now.” The Omega let out a soft breath.

“My room is upstairs, so you’re going to have to retrieve my clothing. All I ask is that you have some discretion and don’t pry if it looks like something you shouldn’t. My walk-in closet is relatively straightforward.” Mycroft glared at the stairs. It was amazing how your view of something could change after it had harmed you. Then his stomach growled and a rather inconvenienced look slid onto his face. He hadn’t had breakfast. Pushing it to the side for a moment, he looked up to address one more thing.

“You sleeping on the sofa is fine as long as you don’t object. And considering you suggested it, I don’t think that will be a problem. Actually, I believe it may fold out. I’ve never bothered to try it though. If not, it’s still very comfortable.” He wasn’t going to admit it, but he’d actually spent a number of nights sleeping on it himself either after going days without sleep and collapsing on the first soft surface he could find, or accidentally drifting off while in the middle of doing reports on his laptop. It would hopefully serve Greg well.

Greg’s eyes slid to Mycroft’s stomach at the first grumble and caught the small hunger protests as Mycroft spoke, apparently ignoring his hunger for the moment. Greg nodded when appropriate, but having had barely a doughnut that morning, he was starved and still needed nicotine patches.

“I’m pretty sure that whether it pulls out or not it is still better than what I’m sleeping in. So first order of business, I’ll get Anthea to do a food run, I’m bloody hungry and I know you need to eat, and while she’s doing that I’ll get you set up in the guest bedroom. Then after that, I am fully intending of abusing more power with cadets at the station in getting me files while I relax to some telly.” Greg’s eyes did another sweep of the sitting room and realized that he did not, in fact, see a television. His mood did another little plummet at the thought that he might miss the tail end of the season. “Please tell me you have a telly! What man at your age doesn’t have a telly?”

Mycroft gave him a look. “Really, Gregory? I’m not the type of man who has much time for telly, nor am I one to have something inelegant as a television visibly marring the decorum of my home. If you’re bored, try reading a book. I recommend my copy of _Nineteen Eighty-Four_. It’s a collector’s edition and had an inspiring forward in it that isn’t in any other. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to get something to eat.” Mycroft then turned the chair and rolled towards the kitchen, a secret smirk on his face.

He left Greg to puzzle that one out as he rolled up to his refrigerator. Greg was a smart man, he’d figure it out. The Omega let out a short sigh. Though he was hungry, he really wasn’t in the mood for cooking anything, so he set his sights on a few fruits, some toast with jelly and a glass of milk, as per his diet’s requests, if only slightly lacking. Today, he just wasn’t really in the mood.

Greg couldn’t smoke, didn’t have patches, on top of that for a good half hour that day he had convinced himself that the man carrying his child was murdered, so he really wasn’t in the mood to be told to read a book. As Mycroft wheeled away with an insufferable amount of dignity, Greg stormed to the bookcase, found the book in question, and tried to rip it off the shelf so he could throw it at something.

He almost lost it when he heard a ‘snick’ instead, his mind immediately going to the sounds of triggers and bombs, and literally jumped back when the bookcase started to move. His heart was pounding and he kept looking in Mycroft’s direction as two cases popped out then slid to the side to reveal an entertainment system that would make a grown man weep. Greg’s jaw literally dropped.

“You... _Nineteen Eighty-Four_? You are seriously twisted, you know that? Seriously bloody warped.” Not that Greg was complaining. With a telly of that size adjacent to the sofa, he was starting to finally feel that things might work out. But with that realisation came the embarrassment of how he had reacted in the first place to thinking that Mycroft didn’t have a television. He rubbed the back of his neck and went for the staircase.

“I’ll just... get everything set up, shall I? Yeah. You just... sit tight.” He all but fled upstairs, but all things considered, things really could have been worse.

Mycroft chuckled as he listened to Greg’s process of discovering his television. Just because he didn’t watch it often and found them unattractive didn’t mean he didn’t have one. The Omega finished his breakfast just as he heard Greg trot up the stairs. The man rolled out, glancing around his home before heading to the guest bedroom he’d be staying in until he healed. Pushing open the door, he went inside. It could use a bit of tidying, but it would do.

Sighing, he cupped his stomach, feeling the tiny kicks beneath his palm. His time with Gregory was going to be an interesting one. He had never lived with someone who wasn’t family. Though… in a way, Greg was family. They were now connected by blood, by the tiny girl growing inside him. Mycroft’s face softened. Yes, it was going to be an interesting six weeks.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In that single moment, Greg's world went cold.

Mornings had become ritual in Mycroft’s townhouse. Really, it was surprisingly domestic. It had been about two going on three weeks now since Mycroft’s accident and honestly, they were settling in quiet nicely. Mycroft would wake up early every morning, limping around in his walking cast as he started his day. He would use the facilities as per usual and then hobble passed Greg, who was usually asleep on the sofa, to the door to retrieve the paper, then into the kitchen. The Omega would then about making himself breakfast, only setting the kettle on to boil once he was sure Greg would be wake up and come in before it went cold again. He would usually then sit and read the news while he ate, getting his tea when Greg did.

The last three weeks had been trying, the first six days an awkward encounter in and of itself. Mycroft had been forced to go everywhere in that godforsaken chair until he got the crutches. He’d figured out how to get into it himself from his bed without hurting himself and had also developed a technique to unlock it with his umbrella. This way, he could roll to the bathroom without disturbing Greg every single time. Bathing had been an embarrassing and nightmarish experience, but fortunately, Greg seemed to know when and where to hold his tongue and look away.

Getting the walking cast had been a relief. After a little coaxing, he’d been cleared to return to the office, as long as he had Anthea nearby whenever he was up and about. It gave him more independence from Greg and allowed them to slip into a comfortable routine. Mornings were pleasant and civil and when they came home, they were usually too exhausted to talk much so they would simply eat and then retire to their respective places of resting. Greg on the sofa, sometimes watching some telly before going to bed and Mycroft occasionally going over some paperwork or reading a book in the safety of the guest bedroom. It was comfortable.

This particular morning however he was met by the sight of the case files that covered the kitchen table. Usually, the sight of blood didn’t bother him much, but lately it had and he felt his stomach churn as he surveyed the photos. Then, systematically, he turned them over, one by one and pushed them into a neat pile out of the way. Mycroft then proceeded to stare at his food like he might be ill before pushing it away and turning to the news. Suddenly, he just wasn’t all that hungry.

Greg stumbled into the kitchen feeling half dead, his eyes still mostly closed but after two weeks in Mycroft’s townhouse his feet knew where to go. Which was a good thing because he was bloody exhausted. He had another late night, this time trying to track down a ‘butcher’ on top of the Omega killer. The last thing he needed was some psycho going around London and chopping people up. The first thing he needed was a cup of tea. Luckily Mycroft was always his saving grace in that.

“Morning,” he mumbled in Mycroft’s general direction, rubbing the back of his head with one hand and grabbing the kettle with another. There was always two cups out with tea bags at the ready when he woke up. He was starting to get spoiled. He poured the hot water then leaned up against the counter as the tea steeped. A large yawn took over his face before he could even think about trying to control it.

“I’m going to have to go in early today. No clue when I’ll be back. Depending if I can get your brother involved in the latest mess, I think it’s going to be another long night.” Finally he cracked his eyes open to see Mycroft frowning down at his meal, Greg’s case files on the ‘butcher’ case in a nice, neat pile and ready to be transferred to the office. That was nice of Mycroft. “Hey, you alright? Baby not liking breakfast?”

Mycroft gave Greg a tight smile as he folded his paper and set it on the table. "Something like that." He replied, not about to admit that Greg's case files were almost enough to bring back morning sickness. The Omega glanced down at his steadily cooling breakfast again and his stomach flipped. No, trying to eat right now was definitely not a good idea.

"I'll get something to eat at the office once my stomach settles though, not to worry." He then assured the man as he carefully stood, one hand at his back, the other firmly gripping the table. The back pains had only gotten worse since the cast and he had even (discreetly) looked into the back braces Greg had mention, talking to his doctor about it in private. Unfortunately, it was recommended that he didn't wear anything that might restrict his movement as his balance was poor enough already, so he just had to deal with it.

"I get the feeling today is going to be a rather long day for me as well. I have some minor negotiations to work out and while that would usually be easy enough, I'm dealing with the type that sees Omegas, pregnant ones especially, more as property than people. I'll manage though. They tend to listen more carefully when they realise exactly what I can do." He winced as a joint popped on his back. "I'll leave you to your tea. Also, you're in the paper again on page seven." With that, Mycroft hobbled back to the guest bedroom to get dressed and ready for his day.

“Sometimes I wonder why I became a cop,” he groaned, folding out the paper to read the article despite his better judgement. He had been in the news too much lately, what with the new Butcher Case and the media frenzy that was the Omega Killer case. He became engrossed in the story; more like engrossed in the stupid mistakes the media made, and didn’t realize that Mycroft had left until he heard the snick of the door closing. Apparently it was one of the mornings where Anthea took Mycroft in. Probably best. Until Greg had his now tepid cup of tea, he was pretty useless.

Gulping it down anyways, he folded up the paper and got busy around the flat before he would have to go into work. It had been silently agreed that he would do the cleaning up since he mostly felt like he couch bum, but there was something to say about the mind numbing qualities to vacuuming. Also, with the radio on and the vacuum going, no one could hear him sing off key. Mycroft had yet to catch him doing it; Greg was going to keep it that way.

“Buggering hell.” Mycroft had unfortunately witnessed Greg’s uncanny ability to knock into everything when he was trying to clean, for instance knocking into the night table in Mycroft’s temporary room and causing a pen to roll under the bed. He managed to not spill the cup of water on the table, so that had to say something.

Even so, he dropped down on all fours to try and unearth Mycroft’s precious pen, clad in a worn shirt and grey boxers with his arse up in the air. Mycroft really was too attached to his bloody fountain pens; for all that he threw them at Greg during rugby games when he got too rowdy. But it wasn’t like Mycroft could fish it out himself so...

“What the...?” Instead of finding a pen though Greg’s hand closed around a jar of some sort. He slid it out, something metallic catching on the bed frame with a cling. With a bit of a dip he managed to unearth a jar of half gone peanut butter with a spoon still inside it. Of all the things.

Greg immediately felt a swell of fondness for the Omega. For all that Mycroft claimed to not being subjected to cravings, Greg had suspected for a while that there was at least one thing Mycroft had been trying to keep a secret and it looked like Greg found it. Really, he should be disgusted, not smiling like a sap. But it was horribly cute, that Mycroft’s one addiction was peanut butter and that it would lead him to bad manners. Not that Greg would ever, in his life, tell Mycroft that he found it cute.

Setting the jar aside, he fished out the pen then the cap to the jar, and finished up his work in the bedroom. When he was finished though he made sure to cap and replace the jar and take the spoon to the sink. Before he finally left for work, he made sure to leave a clean spoon wrapped in a napkin on the night table beside the pen. It was his way of admitting that he found Mycroft’s secret and that he was not only okay with it, but a silent promise not to be an arse about it. If he was going to be an arse about it, then Mycroft would have come home that night to a table full of peanut butter.

Mycroft suppressed a wince as his back twinged in pain. Sitting up straight and proper for extended periods of time was hell on it, but he couldn’t show weakness now, not when he’d finally gotten the Azerbaijani diplomat to take him seriously. He had been doing everything in his power to keep himself in check and not snap the man’s neck after explaining for the fourteenth time that there was no “Alpha in charge”, that he was as superior to very few and half of them were Omegas or Betas and that he should watch what he said or he might find the success of 2008 bank reform no longer benefiting the country. Paired with a cold and serious glare and a reminder that he did have the power to do this, despite being an Omega, Mycroft was fairly sure he’d gotten his point across.

By the time the politician left, Mycroft was starving. He’d had a smaller breakfast in the office once he’d felt up to it, but now, his body was screaming at him to eat something, his stomach clenching around the emptiness that occupied it. And, of course, the baby had been sitting on his bladder for half the meeting so he felt like he was bursting at the seams in that department. Leaving Anthea with the quick request to get him some lunch, the Omega hurried as best he could to the restroom to relieve himself. Luckily he ran into no one; because it was hard to look dignified when you really had to pee and had to hobble around with a cast on to get to the bathroom in the first place. Admittedly, the cast had gotten him some looks and he had gotten an anonymous fruit basket that he was fairly sure was from the secretary on his floor, but it had to be disposed of anyway. You could never know if something had been tampered with or not.

When the man returned to his desk to find a pleasantly laid out meal (one look to Anthea to know only she had touched it) as well as a new form. His brow furrowed when he picked it up. Ah. Well, he had sent in a missive requesting it. He just had to fill in a few things and then he would be filed for leave about a month before the baby was born and a little time after, but not much. The man leaned back in his chair with a soft sigh, one hand sliding over the curve of his belly as he read it over, his daughter kicking against his palm. It was amazing how fast the time had gone. Here he was, almost six months into his pregnancy and it felt like only yesterday that he had gone into heat in this very room. In about three months, he and Greg were going to be fathers. That in itself still felt a little surreal to him. Mycroft closed his eyes for a long moment before opening them again and starting to fill out the form, eating his lunch as he did.

The door opened with a clang from Greg putting too much of his weight into it. He felt a quick, hot jolt of guilt at possibly waking the Omega up but was too damn exhausted to do more than mutter an apology under his breath as he trudged inside.

Last time he checked the clock it was past midnight, which felt like an hour ago, and after having chased down a lead all night, he was exhausted. They weren’t any closer to the Omega Killer, but they might have found Ryan Reed, widow and suspected killer. Luckily, finding the killers was his job but retrieving them wasn’t always his responsibility. He should feel guilty about that, but seeing as how the murderer had run over London boundaries, it wasn’t like it was exactly his problem anyways.

Stepping out of shoes, depositing coat on the proper hook, he immediately went straight for the couch. His stomach grumbled a small protest as he turned on the telly and grabbed the bottle of water that he had left on the coffee table. He didn’t get past a few gulps without feeling the tug of sleep, he didn’t even fight it. The couch hadn’t been made up to sleep, he was still sitting upright, but he really didn’t care as he closed his eyes. He would deal with the crick in his neck in the morning.

Mycroft had gotten home around eight that night to find Greg absent from his home. He wasn’t surprised to be honest. The DI had been dealing with some heavy cases lately, the worst of which was the elusive “Omega Killer”. Mycroft knew for a fact that that particular case got to the man and he couldn’t blame him. The man was having to deal with an unknown killer who was picking off pregnant Omegas. Mycroft could only imagine what that must be like and wondered how often Greg saw him in the victim’s place. The thought made his blood run cold. But, Mycroft had protection and knew about such dangers. He was at risk of being poisoned, even if it had nothing to do with his pregnancy, with his governmental position and he knew how to take the necessary precautions. Not that he’d tell Greg about that risk, the man had enough on his mind already.

The Omega wasn’t sure what time Greg came in, but he heard the soft background noise of the television when he had to get up to go to the loo around two in the morning, so he knew the man was home. Once he was finished in the bathroom, he went over to his door as quietly as he could and peered out. He could see the back of the sofa, Greg still somewhat upright, but obviously asleep from the way he was slouched. Mycroft tsked under his breath. Greg was going to ruin his neck like that.

Creeping out and trying to be quiet, he walked around the couch to turn the telly off. While the background noise seemed to help Greg to get to sleep, Mycroft found it grating and knew he wouldn’t be able to drift off again unless it was off. The room darkened without the flickering light of the screen so the elder Holmes waited a moment to let his eyes adjust before carefully hobbling back to his room, pausing once to glance back at the dark silhouette of Greg’s sleeping form before closing the door. Climbing back in bed, he let out a long sigh and drifted back to sleep once more.

Greg frantically waded through the crowd of noise, trying to get to Mycroft. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck and though it was a sea of faceless strangers, he still couldn’t see the man his scent blocked by the crowd, no sound of him could be heard. Greg was only left with the horrible dread that he was going to be too late.

Suddenly it was like a switch going off, the crowd disappeared and Greg was plunged into darkness. He swallowed back the suffocating fear though, tried to keep his head to find Mycroft. There was a shuffle behind him and he spun around in time to watch the blade fall, light from an unseen source glinting off the sharp edge of a butcher’s knife, the blade aimed directly at Mycroft’s stomach.

Greg woke up with a strangled sound, eyes frantically blinking at the sudden darkness of the room. Someone, being Mycroft, must have turned off the telly, which was proof enough that Greg needed actual sleep. He scrubbed his hand through his hair, the dream dissipating like smoke and leaving only a sense of anxiety. He found that the bottle of water hadn’t been dumped all over his lap, chugged down the rest then made up his bed properly. He couldn’t shake the feeling that work in a few hours was going to be hell though.

“Hey, can somebody get me a coffee!” He had been right, work was bloody hell. It was nothing but piles of paperwork, chasing down dead ends and the sinking feeling that if they didn’t figure out something soon, another body was going to turn up. It was near time for the Omega Killer to strike and the Met was filled with a miasma of tension while the media hounded them for not doing a proper job of it. They were trying. God they were trying.

He looked down at the pictures again but all he could see with Mycroft, ashen and in a pile of his own sick. Fearing that the coffee, once he got it, was only going to end up coming back up, he closed the file and buried his face in his hands. Finally he heard the soft patter of heels on carpet and looked up in relief. Sally always knew when to rescue him.

“I hope it’s extra strong. I need industrial strength,” he said gruffly, but there was something wrong about her expression. That and she wasn’t carrying a cup of coffee. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as a cold chill shot down his spine. Greg immediately straightened.

“What? What happened?” The room was horrible quiet, he couldn’t even hear himself breathing, and it felt like forever before she finally spoke, her dark eyes boring into him.

“Another body was found.” She was horribly quiet as she spoke and he felt like he had to strain just to hear her. It wasn’t like Sally to be so quiet, almost childlike, like she had seen something horrible and talking about it only made it true. He tried not to think about what that meant as he shot to his feet, the need for coffee gone.

“I knew it. Fucking hell. Where was it found this time?” He swung his coat on, his stomach in knots. He could only imagine what the scene was going to look like. Actually no, he knew exactly what they were going to find, just like the last five deaths.

When he looked back up at Sally, expecting an answer, he instead found her biting her lower lip with tears brimming but not yet falling. His stomach dropped and the silence became deafening as the world fell away from beneath him. That was when he knew who the next victim had been. She didn’t need to say it, but it was clear on her face that the address was the one he currently called home. He was running out the door before she could say another word but oddly he felt like he didn’t move an inch, still frozen in his horror.

The house was quite, like it was empty and yet, there was even more than just a stillness in the air. It wasn’t cold, but there was still a chill. Something unnatural. Or perhaps all too natural. The flat was tidy. Mycroft had been at it again, nesting, even though he claimed to be doing nothing of the sort. His room was empty as was the den. All was quiet. Everything was still. It had been left untouched by the first responders.

But, the nursery, the door that was always closed whenever Mycroft was about, was slightly ajar. Inside the scene was cold. Painful. Mycroft was curled up on the rug, dressed in his pyjamas, his maroon robe resting limp over his torso and legs like a veil. The corner of the rug was turned up; his left leg stretched a little, the cast prominent. He’d tripped on the corner of it, he’d stumbled and fallen. But that wasn’t all. Mycroft was always so careful with how he walked. Or he had been.

The man’s arms were wrapped around his stomach with a death grip, as though it would save his child in his last breath. Now it truly was a grip of death. And in death, he didn’t look peaceful or asleep. He looked blank. Cold. His eyes were open; the very ones that had shot sharp glares and held a certain brightness were now glassy and blank. A trail of cold, brownish vomit clung to his lips. Rigamortis had set in about an hour ago, his limbs now stiff in their curled position. There was no heartbeat. No pulse. Mycroft Holmes was gone from the world, taking the tiny child he had come to love with him.

 

\---

Greg shot up in a cold sweat, his heart pounding in his ears. He felt like he couldn’t get enough oxygen, for all that he was gulping down air. He was still engulfed in darkness and the blinking clock in the kitchen told him it was only four in the morning. Too early for even Mycroft to be up.

Without another thought he was up on his feet and running for Mycroft’s room. Unlike the dream that had woken him earlier, the nightmare of finding Mycroft and their daughter, dead, was still vivid in his mind. He may never be able to walk into the nursery without remembering the god awful dream.

He burst through Mycroft’s door, his harsh pants loud in his ears and shattering the dreadful silence from his nightmare. A small stream of light filtered through the curtained window, the dim glow falling over the stirring form on the bed. Greg loathed waking the man up but he couldn’t deny the wash of relief that stole his breath when he saw proof of Mycroft alive and well. He fell against the doorframe and covered his face with his hand. It took everything he had not to break down from one stupid dream.

Mycroft started at the loud noise, scrambling up and trying to find the switch on his lamp. He could hear heavy breathing and see a silhouette at the doorway, but he could only smell Greg’s scent, so either the intruder had masked theirs or… The Omega found the switch and flicked it on only to see a positively distressed looking Greg; the man’s face held in his hands, his body limp against the doorframe. Mycroft wondered, a bit sombrely, if he’d just gotten a call that someone in his family had just passed away, but that wouldn’t explain him reacting like this. Mycroft found it both disturbing and worrisome to see the man in such a state.

“Gregory?” He shifted under his sheets, sliding them away from his body and sitting up, pivoting his legs over the side of the bed. “Greg, what’s wrong?” Mycroft tried to sift through every possible explanation for the Alpha to be like this, worry etched on his face. None of what he came up with was good.

Slowly, he stood and carefully walked towards the father of his child, waiting for a response. When he got closer, he could see the sheen of sweat on Greg’s face under his hands and the man looked pale. If Mycroft didn’t know any better, he’d say the DI was ill, but he didn’t smell sick. “Gregory, what’s going on? Are you all right?” He repeated, in case the man had somehow missed it the first time as he took one step closer.

Greg ground the heel of his palm into his eyes. “I’m alright,” he assured, sounding flat and gruff to his own ears. He growled in frustration at himself, embarrassed by how he was reacting to the nightmare. “Just a dumb dream.”

Except he couldn’t escape the image of Mycroft on the floor in the nursery, two lives snuffed out by a nameless killer. The dream had been so bloody real. Right down to entering to room and smelling only death and the stale hint of Mycroft’s pheromones. He thought that it was the smell, above all else, that had woken him. The past couple of weeks he had come to rely on Mycroft’s scent to ground him and remind him why he worked so hard at his job, to protect people like Mycroft.

He pulled his hand away and looked up, feeling numb and past the point of exhaustion. But the more he breathed in Mycroft’s scent the better he started to feel. His hands itched to touch, to confirm physically what he saw, but he managed to keep them to himself. Mycroft was fine. That was enough for Greg. Or it should be.

“I’m sorry I woke you. Will you be able to go back to sleep?”

Mycroft frowned, taking in Greg’s appearance carefully. He believed what the man had said. A nightmare made sense, but for it cause him such distress…. It must have been horrifying. Mycroft’s heart dropped. He’d never seen Greg like this before and it actually moved him to do so now, in the early morning before the sun had even risen. He let out a soft sigh at Greg’s words.

“I doubt it… The little one’s gotten a good bit riled up...” He replied quietly, smoothing a hand over his stomach. Indeed, the little girl was pummelling his insides, distressed by her father’s sudden start. “I can really only rest properly when she’s calmer.” He let a silence sit between them for a single moment as he looked down at his belly. Finally, his eyes came back up to Greg’s, an unsure look on his face. “Would… Would you like to talk about it?” He asked gently.

Mycroft wasn’t a man to go out of his way to talk about personal things, to pry into personal things save for where it would be to his gain. In every right, he shouldn’t care about the state this man was in. Shouldn’t care about whatever he was experiencing… but, he did. Greg looked like he had just witnessed the most painful thing life could ever offer and, well, maybe he had. And if the Alpha needed to talk about it, surprisingly enough, Mycroft was willing to listen.

Greg gave a short nod. He knew if he talked about it there was a very big chance of just breaking down in front of Mycroft, like embarrassing, choking sobs and he was too proud for that. And he wasn’t even a very proud man but that was definitely a no man’s land for him. He didn’t cry and he definitely didn’t lose it in front of people. How he was right then was as far as he would go.

“No. I... I really don’t.” He looked up, still feeling gutted though. It might help, but he would sooner just drink himself unconscious and wake up not remembering the nightmare or running into Mycroft’s room like an idiot. Worst of all, he caused both Mycroft and the baby distress and that wasn’t acceptable. “Is there anything I can do? To help the wee one settle?”

He started to reach for Mycroft’s stomach, having read somewhere that sometimes a touch from the father was good at calming down a restless foetus, (they really needed to agree on a name for her) but he stopped himself half way and just sighed. “I can make tea. That usually helps, right?”

Mycroft watched how Greg reacted, how he reached out. How he wanted to touch, to help. Inwardly, Mycroft bit his lip, considering. Normally, he wasn’t so soft, but it was too early for most people to think straight and Mycroft was being kicked from the inside and Greg looked like he had just had a traumatic experience, so... The Omega sighed.

“Yes, there is something you can do. Just... don’t make a habit of it.” Mycroft then carefully took hold of Greg’s wrist and tugged them towards his bed, sitting them down on the end of it. All the while he kept a firm hold on Greg’s wrist. “I’ve read that she might be able to recognise you. If it would calm her down… I think it might help... Not just me, but you.” Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and pulled the man’s hand towards his belly, unfurling his fingers and pressing Greg’s palm on the curve.

“I’ve been able to feel her move from the outside for a few weeks now. I think it’s time you got to see what that’s like too.” He offered Greg a small smile. He didn’t know if it was the hormones making him do this or what, but something in him wanted Greg to experience this. To let him know that whatever it was he’d dreamt, it wasn’t real and that his child was right here, safe. Mycroft took a careful breath as the little one moved; knowing for sure Greg would have felt it.

Greg almost pulled away for Mycroft’s sake but he really wanted to feel the baby move and admittedly, the physical contact helped a bit. He could already feel his heart rate stabilise and his chest didn’t feel like something was crushing him so much. Then he felt the baby kick against his palm and his breath literally hitched. It should be weird. It was a little weird, but it was the best thing in the world at the same time.

“Was that?” He pressed a little firmer and felt a stronger hit against his hand. His eyes widened and a soft sound of surprise escaped him. In the back of his mind he was aware that Mycroft might be uncomfortable, but Greg wasn’t moving his hand away until he was made to. That was his little girl, smacking against his palm. “Jesus. You get to feel this all the time? That’s brilliant.”

He looked up at Mycroft, a small smile of wonder breaking through and replacing the haunted look from the dream. He probably still looked like shite, but there was no mistaking the gratitude he felt for Mycroft at sharing this small thing for him. He wasn’t sure if it was doing anything for the baby, but it was working wonders for him. This time though, he couldn’t blame it on pheromones.

How he felt, their proximity, the fact that he wanted nothing more than to pull Mycroft close and not let go for a few hours, that was all him. He hoped to hell it just didn’t show. He had hid his feelings the past couple of weeks but he felt raw and open from the nightmare. If there was a God, Mycroft was too tired or distracted to read him.

Mycroft felt his skin flush and his heart thump loudly, his hormones racing as Greg was much closer than he had been in weeks (not since the first six days after the accident) and this time, it wasn’t to achieve something necessary. It was simply a fond and calming gesture. It made him feel warm and needy, the Omega side of him yearning for the comfort.

The man closed his eyes, still rather tired, smiling when he realised the baby was starting to settle down. She never did that for him. Usually, he just figured she tired herself out after a day of sitting on his bladder and kicking various organs, because any touch of his rarely seemed enough to calm her. The man leaned back a little propping himself with his hands on the mattress, raising an eyebrow.

“She’s actually calming down..” He murmured, impressed. “Maybe... if you tried rubbing, it would lull her to sleep and then _I_ could finally get some.” His face flushed even more when he realised he was practically asking for a belly rub, but his Omega side and his need for sleep overruled it. The sooner the babe stopped kicking him, the better.

He then took a moment to study Greg’s face, noting the fondness and feeling a little touched by it. The man really cared, that much Mycroft knew. He’d known since the drunken text Greg had sent him about two months ago when the Alpha had discovered the pregnancy. Mycroft just didn’t know what to do about it.

 Sighing, he tilted his head back, something shiny catching his eye. That’s when he saw the napkin and spoon. He’d gotten in bed with the lights off and wouldn’t have seen it until morning. Quickly, Mycroft’s head was back up, his face flushed and his lips sealed like he hadn’t seen it. So Greg had found that. And he’d been nice about it. Mycroft inwardly shook his head. He was sure Greg would taunt him should he ever find out. Apparently not. Everyday Mycroft was growing less and less sure about what exactly this man was to him. But he didn’t have the energy to ponder that now. Closing his eyes again, he focused on the warm, firm weight of Greg’s hand on his stomach.

Greg didn’t even let the surprise of Mycroft’s request linger for a second, instead jumping at the chance to actually act on his natural instincts to provide care and comfort to Mycroft. “I can do that,” he said softly, shifting so he had one arm wrapped around Mycroft’s back to better brace him for his back’s sake, letting Mycroft lean on his shoulder for extra support.

He started in small, concentric circles, careful not to press down too hard, but got a little firmer as he went. He watched Mycroft’s face carefully to make sure he was comfortable and seemed to be at any rate. And it was nice, really nice to be that close, rubbing Mycroft’s stomach. It was the closest he had been to the baby, and as close to Mycroft in a way that didn’t involve sex or getting the man into and out of a wheel chair. He was worried though that he would get too used to it considering that it was probably a onetime thing, but he would worry about that later.

“You know, if you ever ask for it, I’d give you a back rub too.” He couldn’t help pushing his luck.

Mycroft was amazed at how much he enjoyed Greg touching him, a warmth rolling through him. He was leaning halfway on the man while the Alpha rubbed his stomach, the little girl within calming down with each soothing circle. He found himself drifting off in a content haze. It was nice. He would never have guessed. Mycroft didn’t like people touching him, recently even more so. But Greg… well… Hormones, he reminded himself. Greg was the father of his child and the Omega side of him was hungry for comfort and would only accept it from “his” Alpha. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy it.

After all, Greg was warm and had firm but comfortable hands, his fingers rubbing over Mycroft’s belly giving him contented pleasure. It was a bit like being out on a warm spring afternoon. With all his aches and pains, he was entitled to enjoy himself a little.

So he blinked a little when Greg spoke again, coming out of his sleepy daze and processing the statement. As if on cue, his back started to act up, probably because he just started thinking about it. He made a short noise of disapproval; feeling like allowing Greg to do that would be a bit like giving in. But then… the man was already practically giving him a belly rub, so it wasn’t like he was trying to preserve his dignity.  He let out a low huff.

“If you tried to do that, it would probably be a bit massaging iron bars, the tension’s been there for so long.” He murmured. It wasn’t a no, nor was it outright a yes, but.. in a way, it was an invitation. One that put out the message of ‘Impress me and then we’ll see if it becomes something regular.’ Because honestly, he hadn’t felt this good since the beginning of the pregnancy and if Greg was willing, maybe he could make the feeling last.

Greg shifted so that he was more to Mycroft’s side than behind him, careful not to jostle his bum leg, while unable to resist letting a bit of his devious nature come out. It was all that touching, making him more relaxed and feeling a tad like being an arse, his Alpha side coming out a bit.

“You forget that I like challenges. Why do you think I’m so fond of ya?” He rumbled with a smirk playing at his lips. Luckily in that position it would be hard for Mycroft to smack him one, but he aimed to distract the man. Though it wasn’t the best position for it, he got one hand right at the bundle of knots between Mycroft’s shoulder blades while his right hand was still on Mycroft’s belly. He rubbed in sync, firm, even strokes, and let Mycroft’s warmth seep into the thin grey undershirt, having stripped for bed the first time he had woken up.

He did know that what he was doing was bordering on dangerous, getting too close. He knew Mycroft wasn’t on the same page when it came to affection or feelings, so in the end Greg would be the only one getting hurt. After the baby was born they would go back to professionalism, maybe be a bit platonic, but as close as they were getting? It was all hormones, at least to Mycroft. Greg did know that, but damn it felt nice pretending otherwise in Mycroft’s room, the taint of the dream slipping away.

Mycroft was about to shoot him a glare for the comment when the man pressing his fingers into the tension in his back and his eyes almost rolled back. By gods, that felt good. It was a spot he could never get and obviously, no one else had touched him in such a way. The man bit back a satisfied groan as Greg worked the knot out. He honestly didn’t know that last time he’d been touched so casually. The last time he’d been taken care of.

He was an Omega from a prominent family, destined to basically become a broodmare if he didn’t prove himself. So he had. He’d risen up and shown his family exactly what he was made of, that he wasn’t just something to be bred. Sherlock had just outright left. Lived on the streets and got into all sorts of dangerous things. Mycroft had dragged him from that gutter on more than one occasion. Mycroft Holmes was a man of business and dealings. He was powerful and he’d earned it. Having an heir to carry on the family name, his name in particular was logical. He never would have guessed it would become this.

Now he lived with the father of his child (granted, it was for while he was still recovering, but still) and they were going to raise their child together as best they could. Mycroft trusted Greg. He trusted him a lot. More than he’d ever trusted anyone. Perhaps it was because he trusted Greg to want to raise their child right. Maybe it was because he knew Greg would never hurt him. The man seemed strangely loyal for all Mycroft had put him through. Mycroft sighed. Now was really not the time to be thinking about this. Not when he’d somehow dissolved into making small contented noises at Greg’s touches without even realising it.

Dangerous had been the right word. Borderline stupid, definitely. But God he was only human and couldn’t help but be affected. Being so close that his senses was swamped by Mycroft’s scent and dear lord the tiny, breathless sounds of contentment, of course it was doing something to Greg.

He wasn’t exactly sporting a stiffy, his body too damn tired for that, but he had his nose pressed up against Mycroft’s shoulder and he drank in every sound and reaction that Mycroft was making. It was a good thing that Mycroft invested in full body coverage pajamas because Greg feared that he wouldn’t be able to resist pressing a kiss against bare skin just to feel Mycroft’s heat seeped into the sensitive skin of his lips.

Greg needed to pull away soon and let the man sleep, possibly get some more sleep himself, but he was warm, comfortable, had his hands all over Mycroft. And alright, maybe something was stirring down south, but he hadn’t had sex in ages, his last partner in his arms and making those sounds. They weren’t even obscene, for Christ’s sake. But six months of just him and his hand, the past couple of weeks an awkward venture in the shower trying to not let on what he was doing... he was only human.

“This is going to hurt a bit at first but then I promise it’s going to feel so good,” he promised in a quiet, gruff whisper, not realizing the double entendre until too late. Hoping to cover it up he stroked his hand low to find a particularly nasty knot that was going to hurt like a bitch at first but he knew once he worked it out it would feel better than an orgasm. He dug his fingers in, firming his hold on Mycroft in case he jerked or tensed, and went to work on releasing the worse of the knots.

Mycroft grimaced, his breath sharp as Greg’s fingers screwed into a painful knot in his lower back. The DI was right, it did hurt, but he tried to relax as the tension was rubbed away. This time, he couldn’t hold back the pleased groan as the ache that had been tormenting him for weeks eased away. God, why hadn’t Greg suggested this before?

In reality, he may have not have actually accepted it if Greg had asked before now. Something had just clicked inside him. Maybe it was interacting with Greg the way Alphas and their pregnant mates usually acted around each other. Mycroft didn’t know, but it was comfortable.

“Oh, God. Yes. A little to the right if you don’t mind that spot’s been pestering me for- Ah, yes. Right there. I need it right there.” He groaned again, enjoying the sensations and his muscles were loosened under Greg’s hands. Mycroft felt his skin flush warm as he readily accepted the man’s touches, needy for the contact. He still had no idea why all of this was happening like it was and why the back rub and other points of contact felt so good. Surprisingly, he felt a stirring, something he had quashed down for the last six months. Sometimes the hormones made him incredibly randy, but he had always ignored it. Now was harder though, no pun intended. He let out a soft, warm breath and closed his eyes.

“Gregory, perhaps you should stop. I feel I may to something rather rash if you don’t.” He murmured, trying to shove back the incoming flush of hormones and failing. He doubted he could succeed with Greg touching him and being so close.

Greg caught his bottom lip between his teeth when Mycroft started to talk while making those delicious sounds. Did the man even know what he was saying? It was like he intended the almost innuendo, but Greg managed not to say anything and just rub where he was told.

Though there was the matter of his right hand slowly rubbing lower on Mycroft’s belly, having started out on the top of the curve but had slowly progressed lower. He was still rubbing circles to ease their little girl, but if he kept it up it would become a bit more than a belly rub. Not to mention that he was running his nose along the curve of Mycroft’s shoulder, practically scenting him. It was a bit more than platonic. But Mycroft’s scent had shifted, became... sweeter? More intoxicating and it was damn hard to pull away.

And obviously Mycroft felt the shift as well. Heat flared from the pit of his gut then raced up his spine, making it hard to breathe for a second. Greg didn't stop at Mycroft's warning, but he did move his right hand up the swell of Mycroft’s stomach and eased up on the back rub, returning to soft, gentle rubs. And oh he wanted to find out what ‘rash’ might be. Really wanted to push his luck but...

He hadn’t offered a back rub for sex. It wasn’t supposed to come to that. He was returning comfort received and felt it might just make things awkward or cheap between them. Fighting against all of his instincts, he pressed his forehead against Mycroft’s shoulder for a second to collect himself then finally pulled away. He could be imagining it, but it physically hurt to lose the physical connection.

“Wouldn’t want that now,” he said gruffly, having to cough to clear his throat. He knew it was the right thing, but damn why did it feel like he was making a huge mistake? His Alpha instincts screamed that Mycroft was his and that he had the right to take, but Greg liked to believe he was above that.

Finally he pulled his hands away after making sure that Mycroft was steady and pushed himself onto unstable legs. And oh hell he was going to need a shower. There was no way out of that.

“I uh... hope she lets you get back to sleep. You can still catch a couple of hours before you have to get up.”

Mycroft decided not to mention that tomorrow was one of his work-from-home days and really he could sleep in as long as he liked. Greg wouldn’t have such a luxury, so he wasn’t about to rub it in. Especially when he realised he felt a little disappointed that Greg had actually listened to him and stopped. But, perhaps it was for the best. He didn’t want the hormones making him do something he might regret. Though.. He wasn’t all that sure he actually would regret it. He shoved the thought away and tried to compose himself.

“She seems fairly calm now, thank you Gregory.” He murmured, his skin still flushed. He looked anywhere but at Greg, mostly down at his stomach. “And thank you for the back massage. I hadn’t realised how much I needed it.” Mycroft shuffled back on his bed, pulling at the covers so he could get under them. “I hope you get some rest as well.” He murmured, watching Greg get to the door before turning out the light.

He felt so strange. So relaxed and warm and comfortable. It felt nice. It had felt even nicer when Greg had been there though, and that in itself was enough to make him flush again. Damn hormones. The Omega then comfortable, willing the mild sexual arousal he’d felt away, focusing instead on how calm and still his little girl was within him. He was glad, smirking when he felt only the slightest of twitches. They’d found a way to get her settled. And… a few other things. And only God knew where that was going to lead.

Greg paused inside the door frame, his fingers tapping restlessly against the painted wood. He looked back at Mycroft as he settled in bed and felt a different sort of longing that wasn’t necessarily sexual. That really was his cue to leave.

“Any time. Seriously, I’m here to make things easier, aren’t I? With you not really needing me with the new cast on, it’s high time that I start paying for my keep. Besides, you shouldn’t let it get too bad. Can’t be good for the baby.” No, him rambling was the big clue that he needed to get his arse away from Mycroft and the inviting warmth. Of the bed. Right. “So yeah. Er... Goodnight. Glad she’s settled. See you... in the morning.”

Now flushed from embarrassment rather than arousal, he made quick his escape, closing Mycroft’s door a little too hard. Right. First order of business, a hot shower to relieve a certain kind of tension so he could maybe sleep. At least he felt like he could sleep without the fear of nightmares. Where his dreams would turn after that though was anybody's guess.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For once, things seem all right, even with the occasional snag.

After that night it had been like a seal had been broken. Greg felt like he was more welcomed in Mycroft’s personal space so he stopped holding back from touching the man. Just light touches at first; a pat on the shoulder or a squeeze to the nape of Mycroft’s neck when he looked like the tension was getting to him. Small, fleeting touches meant to just give them a bit of comfort.

He was especially grabby in the mornings though and a week of getting more comfortable in each other’s personal space meant that when Greg was only half a brain, he didn’t quite know what his boundaries were. Like coming behind Mycroft one morning to get a hand on his belly just to feel the baby kick before getting distracted by the smell of a morning pastry. And if he had taken the opportunity to bury his nose at the nape of Mycroft’s neck for a second, well, he hadn’t had his cup of tea yet so his brain wasn’t at full capacity.

“With Reed in jail I actually don’t have to be in until later,” he said around his mouthful of pastry. He walked past Mycroft to the kettle, this time touching his elbow on the way. “You going straight into work after your morning rit? I can take you in this time if you want.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at Greg’s affections, but didn’t say anything about it. He’d gotten used to the man being more demonstrative with his touches in the last week and he wasn’t against it. It was comforting and a little amusing. In the mornings would be a little more open with his affections and Mycroft’s Omega side enjoyed it. He would often tell himself it was the hormones, but he had come to crave that touch, even in such a short period of time. Greg’s strong hands and warm presence were always soothing and the fond touches and caresses had started to become part of their established routine. The man smirked as he sat down with his breakfast.

“Well, it’s supposed to be one of my days at home, but as it turns out, I’m going to have to be going in anyway, albeit a bit later in the day. The Turkish Ambassador decided he’s going to be coming in for an impromptu visit with a small negotiation on the side and won’t reschedule.” Mycroft’s lips quirked. “I would usually just skip it anyway as it really isn’t that important, but I have to admit, I want to see the look on his face when he sees I’m six months pregnant. He’s an Omega himself but he’s been under the impression that I’m an Alpha ever since we met.”

All right, so maybe Mycroft had been getting steadily more comfortable in more ways than one. He talked more in the mornings, relaying the small humours that could be found in his work to Greg from time to time. Little known fact, Mycroft actually had a decent sense of humour, though it could be a little on the dry side and was more often than not, rather subtle. And occasionally a little twisted. The _Nineteen Eighty-Four_ bookcase switch _had_ been his own design after all. So, he _might_ also take amusement in watching people’s reactions as well. Mycroft chuckled inwardly as he began to tuck into his breakfast. To anyone watching, it was easy to tell that this week, he was happier than he had been in any other.

Greg snorted in his cup of tea. "Why am I not surprised?" He quipped dryly. Everyone mistook Mycroft as an Alpha at first glance, it was the way he carried himself in those suits. Greg thought he probably fancied the man from the start, which had confused the hell out of him since he usually didn't find himself attracted to other Alphas. He was pretty glad that he had been mistaken.

"Be sure to let me know how it goes, yeah? Ya bloody imp," he added fondly, setting his tea aside and moving behind Mycroft to gently rub his neck.

He had meant to grab milk for his tea but since Mycroft was between him and the fridge, Greg couldn't help himself. Besides, Mycroft had already giving him permission to help rub out some tension. Might not be exactly the kind of rubbing out of tension that Greg would like, but he wasn't greedy.

Mycroft chuckled before taking another bite of food. It was actually rather pleasing how things were turning out between them. It was comfortable and domestic. It was home. The Omega had never stopped to think that he might actually enjoy being closer to Greg until the other night, but now that he was, he relished it.

The man stretched his neck so Greg could get a better angle work out the tension there, letting out a soft pleased noise. Greg’s hands were warm and steady. He had a workman’s hands with callused fingers that were rough and warm, but they could be so gentle and caring. The only callus on his own hands was where he held a pen. Greg did little more these days too, that much Mycroft was sure of, but he’d earned his place as DI by doing the work of the lower levels first and the traces of those day still lingered. That’s how Mycroft saw it anyway.

Mycroft let out a soft breath of relief as the forming knot in his neck was worked out before it could even become a problem. “You’re entirely too good at that, I hope you know.” He mused, more relaxed as he returned to his breakfast. The baby was starting to move about, making the Omega smile inwardly. By eleven she’d be doing jumping jacks and kicking his kidneys so he always tried to take the time to enjoy when she only moved a little, making her presence known but not overly so. It was funny. She already seemed to have a personality going for her, but maybe that was just him since he was subjected to everything she did. Either way, it was still always a little sweet to feel her move about; especially when Greg got to feel it too, a certain sense of awe and a grin on his face that Mycroft found rather endearing.

Greg grinned over the top of Mycroft's head, sure the man could sense it somehow. He found a small knot of tension at the base of neck and spine and dug his fingers into it just so. It was a power rush to know that he could get Mycroft to melt under his hands. Heady and addictive, that. Mycroft would only have to ask and Greg would gladly dedicate hours to working out all the kinks and knots from Mycroft's body.

"Oh, I know. I've always been told that I'm good with my hands," he said slyly, releasing Mycroft's neck for the moment to finally go for the milk.

Another liberty he had been taking with Mycroft lately was letting his flirtatious side show more. He had always been playful by nature and a big bloody flirt but had held himself back during the first couple of weeks. Now he felt more comfortable around Mycroft, more himself. It was nice. Easy to fall into. Not to mention a bit of fun to be had seeing if he could ruffle Mycroft's posh feathers. It was all just a bit of fun.

Mycroft’s cheeks flushed at the comment, a tight heat pulsing once under his skin. He had yet to grow accustomed to Greg’s flirting and it showed. Since that night a week ago, Mycroft had been pondering some things. The arousal he’d felt that night for instance. Now, he knew it was mainly hormones, but that didn’t make them easy to ignore. In fact, it was very difficult to. He had always been attracted to Greg physically and now with his hormones raging, there were times… Mycroft pushed the image away.

It had been harder and harder not to give in to the carnal urges he’d been experiencing as of late. When asleep, he couldn’t, which had made for few rather uncomfortable messes to find in the mornings recently. He just had hoped that whatever he had done in sleep, Greg hadn’t been able to hear from the den. That would be utterly embarrassing.

Still a little flustered, seeing where his mind had gone, Mycroft got up to clear his plate, sliding it into the dishwasher before turning, only to stumble. His cast caught on a chair leg, damn thing, but he was able to catch himself safely with the countertop.

The cast was just becoming a nuisance. Mycroft didn’t feel any pain, he felt fine, but no, the cast stayed on until the bone was fully healed. The Omega grumbled, straightening himself and smoothing over his pyjamas. At least it wasn’t as bad as the wheelchair. The man faltered when a crimp of pain shot down his other leg, but only for a second, the baby shifting within. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt that, in fact, the first time had scared him, only allowing him to relax when he discovered it was what happened the little one rolled on a nerve. As if on cue, she kicked him in the bladder instead. Letting out a long sigh, he turned and headed for the bathroom without saying a word to Greg. The man had seen him do it enough to know exactly where he was going.

Greg had seen the stumble too late but made an abortive attempt to catch Mycroft, but luckily Mycroft was better at catching himself. He knew from experience that it was then his cue to pretend like nothing had happened to preserve Mycroft's dignity. He was allowed to acknowledge muscle aches but not when Mycroft had a stumble or his cast caught on something, like the door. Greg knew not to comment based off of experience.

When the man hobbled off to the bathroom, Greg hid a smirk as he stirred in milk. Looked like baby girl was letting her opinion known on how she felt about being jostled. It really hit him hard in the chest that he was starting to catch the little signs. It made him feel like a fuzzy idiot for being so happy over those moments but it also tended to blur the lines between things. God when Mycroft was out of that cast... Greg didn't want to think about it.

Instead he pushed the chairs in, made sure nothing else was in Mycroft's way, then got ready to drive Mycroft in. He just hoped he wasn't getting too attached. Hell, who was he kidding, he knew he was getting too attached. Especially due to the last week. He completely blamed Mycroft though. It just made Greg feel better to do so.

After relieving himself, Mycroft disappeared into his room to get dressed for his day. Which went fine until he got to the waistcoat. After a few minutes of desperate struggling Mycroft let out an annoyed groan and sat down on his bed, looking at the open vest morosely. He then proceeded to all but throw the garment back into his closet. He’d finally outgrown it, which meant he was going to have to get a few new suits tailored to fit him from now on. Perfect. Just perfect. Irritated, his jaw set, the Omega grabbed the jacket that went with it and pulled it on roughly, glaring at himself in the mirror. If Greg said anything about it, he’d tear him a new one.

Mycroft grit his teeth. Even on the best of days, he could dip into moodiness, usually about his changing form.  He never voiced his discomfort with his body, but it was there. For one, he was grateful Greg no longer had to help him bathe, because recently stretch marks that had been virtually unnoticeable except to him had started to become wider and redder. He could barely look at himself in the nude because of it. Thankfully, he wasn’t nude now, but he was still annoyed. For years, he’d strived to be trim, having been rather cubby in his childhood and teen years, and how his waistline was ballooning bigger with each passing week.

So, of course, when he went to button the jacket and the button strained a moment before popping off, Mycroft wanted to scream. He didn’t though. He just closed his eyes and took deep breaths. This was only temporary, he reminded himself. He wasn’t going to be this size forever. Composing himself, he quickly changed into some different trousers and a matching blazer, this time without buttoning it. It would have to do. Looking himself over once more, he smoothed his shirt over his stomach, grabbed his umbrella and went back out so Greg could drive him to work.

The trouble (or perk, depending on how you look at it,) about his job was that Greg was good at noticing the little things. When Mycroft hobbled out without a waistcoat and his blazer undone, Greg noticed and knew why. To him it meant that their baby girl was growing, to Mycroft it meant gaining weight and love handles.

Greg turned around to try and hide his reaction, his great coat smacking against his ankles. He covered the action by straightening up the case files that were almost always strewn on the table. He had taken care in the past week to make sure that there weren’t any unsightly pictures about. It hadn’t taken much for him to cotton on that he had been putting Mycroft off his breakfast.

“Give me a call when you’re done. I’ll pick you up if I don’t get called in earlier than planned.” He flashed Mycroft a quick smile as he hopped to the door to open it the quirk of his lips becoming more cheeky when he held his arm out to help Mycroft over that damn step. “And try not to shock the poor ambassador too much, yeah? I’m sure he’s important somehow.”

Mycroft had seen the look, he wasn’t fooled. Gregory was an intelligent man; of course he knew the reason for Mycroft’s state of dress. The Omega bristled for a moment before calming himself down again. There was no need to get in a fuss about it. Letting a short breath through his nose, he tugged at his lapels one last time.

So maybe he’d decided to scorn the offered arm and manage the step himself, but he was fine. Really. The man’s lips quirked at Greg’s words however, thinking over how the diplomat would react to Mycroft’s condition as they approached the Audi.

“I think Ahmet may be shocked initially, but it may actually benefit my political relations with him. I mentioned he’s an Omega himself and he understands the need we feel to hide our status from others. Many powerful Alphas consider Omegas to be easy pickings in my realm of work. It doesn’t mean you need to hide what you are indefinitely, it just does well to cultivate a certain respect with other Alphas first. And it makes it all the more amusing to watch them react to finding out that someone who has saved their reputations among other things on numerous occasions is actually one of the ‘breeding class’ as they call it.” He sneered a little at the end of the sentence, getting in on the passenger’s side and waiting for Greg to get into the driver’s before talking again.

“But as I said, I believe it may actually cause him to favour me more than he has. He has two children himself and has been in my place. Omegas generally are more comfortable around other Omegas, especially those with child. I’m hoping to get there before him. With my masker on, he won’t be able to tell until I stand up from behind my desk.” Mycroft smirked, his eyes twinkling. So he liked having a little fun.

Greg openly chuckled. He had been surprised at first to find out that Mycroft had an actual sense of humour and a wicked one like that. They were a good match there, though Greg was a bit less subtle about it. He could only imagine the sass their daughter was going to inherit. She was going to be a walking time bomb if she ended up with their snark and Mycroft’s cutting tongue, and likely break hearts doing it. He didn’t know if he thought that was a good thing or not.

“You are seriously warped, you know that? At least people can take one good look at me and expect shit like that to come out of my mouth. You in your suits and your suave always look like butter won’t melt in your mouth.”

He pulled out onto the road after giving Mycroft a shifty look, though really he wasn’t complaining. He thought Mycroft’s humour was sexy as hell, not that he would ever admit that out loud. But he always did have a thing for people who could keep him on his toes.

Ahmet Ünal Çeviköz was an interesting man, known for being solid and calm, not to mention charismatic, despite being an Omega. Mycroft got the feeling that the man thought Mycroft was just another Alpha trying to keep another Omega under his thumb. So, the look on his face when Mycroft stood from his seat to shake his hand was priceless.

The man’s eyes bulged, his mouth falling open from his usual tight, schooled smile. Mycroft could practically see the gears turning in his head as he processed what he was seeing. He then let out a disbelieving chuckle, finally taking the offered hand to shake, an odd grin on his face.

“I didn’t realise you were an Omega, Mr. Holmes.” He said after a moment, both of them sitting down. Mycroft smirked, smoothing one hand over his stomach carefully.

“Most don’t.” He mused. Ahmet just nodded, the fact still sinking in for him, but his demeanour quickly softening. Mycroft watched as the man tried to compose himself, but it was obvious this revelation would leave him a little off for the whole meeting, which meant things going a little more quickly in Mycroft’s view. Flummoxed people weren’t as stubborn and more open to suggestions.

“It may not be my place to ask, but when are you due?” The ambassador asked carefully, making the other Omega smile a little. He actually wasn’t asked that very often.

“I don’t mind. I’m due around the middle of August.” He replied, a fond look on his face. Usually he wouldn’t let such emotions show, but the other man had been there and just smiled back knowingly. “Now, I do believe you mentioned a proposal over the phone…”

They were done about an hour or so later, the proposal going over well and the needed changes made. Ahmet left and Mycroft leaned back in his chair to relax a little before getting out his phone.

_Meeting went well. Still have time to pick me up? If not, Anthea can drive me back. –M_

Greg had made the mistake of going into NSY to check over everyone’s progress so he wasn’t stuck at the townhouse by himself. No one had thought to warn him that the aircon had gone out which meant he walked into a station full of sweaty Alphas, which put him right on edge. He was usually better at handling it but lately the only people outside of Mycroft he could bear to be around were Betas. Omegas just made him feel antsy lately, like they were all trying to get something out of him. Unfortunately, there weren’t many Omegas in the police force.

On top of that Anderson was being a right snot. Word had finally gotten around the entire station Greg’s current situation with Mycroft and Anderson seemed to be in the mind-set that Greg was sleeping with the enemy just because Mycroft was a Holmes. All Greg had wanted to do was take a jaunt into the lab to check on the tox screens for a case but Anderson, the cranky bastard, started in almost immediately.

“Dear God, couldn’t you have showered first? You reek of Holmes and you’re not even bonded! Isn’t that immoral or something, to shag a pregnant Omega but not being Alpha enough to bite?”

Greg’s entire good mood dissipated in the dark lab as he stared Anderson down, his hackles good and risen. He tried taking a deep breathe, clenched and released his hands, then decided he would just feel a whole lot better punching the bastard. That was when his mobile went off in his pocket.

“Don’t you fucking talk to me about morals, Daniel,” he growled as he checked the text then promptly turned heel. “I’ll be back in a few hours. I highly recommend that you decide to not take the night shift!”

_I’m on my way- GL_

He ground his teeth around a deep throated grumble as he texted back. If Anderson was still there when he was officially on the clock he might end up murdering him for that comment. And it hadn’t even been as bad as it could have been. He knew how society viewed Alpha’s that knocked Omega’s up the duff without bonding with them. He knew how he was viewed by some of the men he respected. How could he explain the truth though without them thinking he was a pussy for letting an Omega walk all over him? God, he hated societal constructs sometimes.

_Excellent. Feeling up to lunch? I haven’t eaten yet. –M_

So it was a little late, but the baby had been squishing his stomach for the past hour, repressing his appetite until she moved, which she had and now he was starving. He was tempted to ask Anthea to bring him something, but he could wait. It would be nice to go out to eat, get a little fresh air and a change in scenery. His stomach growled in protest, but he just told it to shut up. He could wait. Though.. he doubted any restaurant they went to would have peanut butter crackers. He sighed.

So, Gregory had figured out that particular craving, much to Mycroft’s embarrassment. The man must have knocked something over, probably while cleaning, and gone to pick it up and had spotted the jar. At least, that’s what Mycroft figured. Anyway, it didn’t really matter how. What mattered was that the man hadn’t taunted him shamelessly about it. He’d cleaned the spoon and put the jar back. The other day, the Omega had found a new, unopened jar of his preferred brand in his night-stand, just when his own supply had been getting low. Really, he was touched, because.. well.. it was sweet and Mycroft appreciated it.

His stomach growling again, the British Government finished some paperwork before stretching and heading out to the bench out in front of the building for Greg to come and get him. It was warm out and sunny and Mycroft was practically basking. People passing by smiled at him, none of them judging him and for that, he was glad. It was funny just how differently one could be treated in a building versus sitting just outside it.

Greg felt bad, he really did, but Higgins had been outside smoking when Greg stormed out and immediately offered a cig, no questions asked. He knew he should have refused, but if he looked bad enough for someone who was usually stingy to offer a cig then Greg wasn’t going to say no. He couldn’t deny that he needed one, even though he had gone a whole month without.

It was after the first drag that he checked his message, the guilt only getting worse when he remembered the reason to why he quit smoking. But it sounded like Mycroft wanted Greg to suffer the public as the sun was starting to get relentless, so no, he really needed the nicotine rush. He only took another drag though before just handing it back to Higgins who dropped the butt of the first and finished off Greg’s dirty seconds like it was an everyday thing.

_What do you have in mind? Your favourite cafe is on the way to yours. -GL_

He could handle the cafe, he felt. It was small, usually empty at that hour and familiar. And the old bat had started to sweeten up to him now that she didn’t think he was a threat to her favourite customer. They also had those peanut butter shortbreads in case Mycroft was in one of his moods. If Mycroft decided against it, Greg planned on driving him there anyways.

As he got into the Audi he felt like he should warn Mycroft though. Not that the man wouldn’t be able to take one good look at him and just know, but it was the courtesy of it. He clicked on the ignition before pulling out his mobile again, having not received a text just yet.

_And fair warning I stupidl went into the station for a bit. It hand’t gone well. –GL_

Mycroft pursed his lips as he read the text. More likely than not, that meant Greg had finally slipped and had had a cigarette after a month of doing well, from the implications as well as the misspelt words. Smokers trying to quit tended to get a little jittery when they slipped up and got that first surge of nicotine after being off it a while. And Mycroft had been so pleased with how the man had been doing, and not only because how the smoke would have affected him and the baby. Mycroft was genuinely worried for Greg’s lungs. Ten years from now, the man was going to be practically hacking them up, with all the abuse they’d likely taken.

True, Mycroft had smoked himself from time to time, but it had never become enough to be an addiction, just a stress reliever when he needed it most, but he supposed he knew the allure. In the days of his brother being a drug addict and having to pull the man from the streets before got himself killed, Mycroft had almost made a habit of it. He just hoped Greg found another way to cope with the stress of his work soon, both for his lungs’ sake as well as for the sake of Mycroft’s increasingly sensitive nose. With luck, he’d manage to stand being in the car with him. The stench of cigarette smoke mixed with Greg’s naturally attractive scent always confused Mycroft’s senses to no end.

It really was getting more difficult to be around people other than Greg though, and not just because of their scents. Recently, Mycroft had been dealing with the urge just to hole himself up in the townhouse and not come out until the baby was born. He’d even considered talking to Greg about maybe making it a homebirth, but he’d quickly quashed that idea himself. It was considered safer for middle aged Omegas in their first pregnancies to give birth at a hospital as there was more risk of complication. The thought still made Mycroft bristle though. The last place he wanted to be while painfully expelling his child from his body was in a cold, sterile clinic surrounded by strangers. Gritting his teeth, he pushed the thought to the side.

_The café sounds perfect actually. And while I won’t hold the fact that you’ve obviously broke your month long stint of not smoking against you as we all have our own way of coping with stress, I will request that you do your best to rid yourself of the smell before you get here. I’m on my usual bench out front. –M_

“Jesus,” Greg dropped his head on the steering wheel after reading the text. Was that what John went through every day? Living with someone who could suss out everything from just a bloody text. He was more convinced than ever that the Baker Street boys were either shagging or John had fallen hard. Otherwise he couldn’t imagine anyone sticking around when their secrets would be sussed out in a glance. At least, Greg knew what his reason for sticking around was.

_Sorry. I’ll do what I can. Just leaving the station.-GL_

Instead of getting onto the road just yet, he unbuckled and slid out, ducked back in to grab the spray of scent neutralizer from the glove box, then opened the boot. He sprayed the coat before shoving it into the boot, it was too hot for it anyways, then gave himself a quick spray down. He should probably wash his hands as well, but if it became a problem he would do it at the cafe. Next he sprayed down his car then got himself going without waiting for a text. It was impolite to make pregnant people wait for their food, not to mention dangerous to his personal wellbeing.

Just for safe measure, he drove with the windows down even though he would sincerely benefit from the aircon. At least if he showed up sweaty, his scent might override the stench of smoking. God the things he did for Mycroft. He hoped the man realised the stakes he would go through... No that wasn’t very charitable. He never should have taken the cig; it was making him shaky and wishing for more. He knew what he needed but that was also out of the question. At least, he thought a good shag was out of the question. Greg shook his head when he came up to a red light and blamed it on the heat.

Greg parked as close to the bench as possible but still got out and walked up to him in case he needed help getting up. He had noticed that Mycroft had been having issues with the brace and the bulging belly when it came to getting out of a chair or anything that was unfortunately low for the tall man. Not that he would come out and say he noticed, but he had.

“Sorry for the wait,” he said, seeing that Mycroft had removed his jacket. Without the waistcoat he looked weird again, normal in just the button up and tie, like any ordinary bloke you’d expect to see behind a desk at some menial job, like an accountant. “But hey, great weather, huh?” He added with a sarcastic twist of the lips. He had no right to complain though, if he was miserable in the heat, he could only imagine how Mycroft was feeling. Oh, how he hoped it was a mild summer.

“Yes, the weather’s wonderful, isn’t it? I’ve been _enjoying_ it the whole time I’ve been waiting out here for you.” Mycroft replied with equal sarcasm as he carefully stood, wobbling a moment, but steadying himself with a hand on Greg’s shoulder. He had in fact been enjoying the climate for the first few minutes outside, but by the time Greg arrived, he was sweaty, flushed and entirely too warm. He’d even been considering going back inside to wait for the Alpha if he had taken too much longer. The man let out a long, frustrated breath.

“Let’s just go before I starve.” He grumbled, releasing Greg and hobbling over to the Audi. The car smelt of chemicals, only proving his deduction that Greg had been smoking again, but at least the DI had had the consideration to cover it up like he’d asked. He could still smell the sour tang underneath, but it wasn’t enough to bother him.

His stomach growled again and he looked like he was repressing the urge to kill something. His hormones had been a little off balance today along with the various environmental conditions, making his mood swing from relatively pleasant to moderately irritable rather quickly. What’s more, the baby had taken to kicking his liver while he’d been waiting. Hopefully, going to the café, having some soothing tea and a relaxing meal would help. Actually, just being in an air conditioned room would help. Letting out a short breath through his nose, Mycroft grimaced as he waited for Greg to get into the driver’s side so they could just get going.

Greg felt even more contrite when he got a good look at Mycroft’s face as he slid into the driver’s seat. He made a mental note to start carrying those granola bar snack things in his pocket from now on as well. He needed to feel useful somehow and if giving Mycroft a snack would prevent him from deciding to bomb another country, then that would make Greg a hero.

There was something to be said about the heat though; few people spent their lunch break going too far from the office just for a lousy sandwich, though why Greg actually knew that beat him. At any rate they made it to the safe fairly quick with Greg feeling like he might have escaped death. He was quick about getting Mycroft’s door open and bracing himself in case Mycroft needed to grab hold onto him to get to his feet.

Through the window he could see the crabby little shop owner and in its reflection a small man that screamed Omega just flitting near the entrance though he looked like he was waiting on Mycroft. It did astound him when he remembered that Omegas were usually shy, small things with sweet dispositions, the exact opposite of the Holmes brothers. 

“It’s not our usual day but maybe that bat still stocked up on the pastries you like. Here’s hoping,” he said cheerfully with a muttered, “For the sake of the world,” under his breath. A cough from the Omega caught his attention but the man flitted inside before Greg could catch if he was trying to cover or laugh or had a case of summer allergies.

“I doubt Matilda will approve of such a title, even if it is rather accurate, but I am looking forward to her scones, so try not to say that where she can hear it. I’ll be right back.” He told the Alpha quickly, completely ignoring the other Omega by the door as he hobbled back to the restroom. He used to be embarrassed by how much he had to use the bathroom when the pregnancy started to affect him in such a way, but these days he was past embarrassment. He had enough discomfort to deal with without a straining bladder.

As he was washing up, he splashed some water on his face, trying to cool himself down a little. The temperatures really had started to climb and it was beginning to get under his skin. England was known for the occasional heat wave, sneaking up on the usually chilly weathered country and its acclimatized citizens. That is to say, when it got hot, people had some difficulty dealing with it.

Wiping his face off with a paper towel, Mycroft glanced back up at the mirror and then frowned when he noticed it. The man reached up and touched the slight, blotchy discolouration on his cheek. It didn’t feel unusual, not sensitive or a different texture to the touch, it was just a different colour. The more he looked, the more he realised it was starting to form a on his other cheek too. Not only that, but the freckles that had faded to a lighter pigmentation since his youth were starting to become darker as well.

Worried, he pulled out his smartphone and looked up ‘discolouration of the face during pregnancy’, clicking the first reliable link. Only then was he able to relax when he discovered it was normal and had no ill effects. Except for the fact it didn’t look too pleasing. Sighing, he examined his face once more in the mirror before going back out to the table Greg had claimed, looking rather cross.

“You could have said something.” He mumbled, because surely Greg had noticed the change, obviously deciding not to tell Mycroft about it.

Greg had been watching the awkward Omega fidget at the front counter when Mycroft plopped back in his chair, looking pissed. His head snapped up at the accusation not having a clue what he was being yelled at this time. He had been honest about the smoking. Sort of. So he couldn’t think of anything else that he had done that would set a fire up Mycroft’s arse.

“About what?” He countered testily before it hit him. Mycroft’s cheek was a little red, like he had been rubbing at it right over the new brown spots Greg had been noticing. His face immediately fell with realisation. “Oh. That.” He tried for a disarming grin but Mycroft’s look told him he fell short.

“Just spots ain’t it? I read it was normal, besides I figured you knew already. I mean ‘s your face, after all.” That likely didn’t help so he dove at a different tactic. “Besides, it’s not that bad. No worse than your freckles and I think your freckles are adorable, so...” It dawned on him like a tonne of bricks that he had just called Mycroft Holmes, the British Government, adorable. Oh, he was so bloody dead.

Mycroft blinked at him like he didn’t quite compute what Greg had just said, rendering him momentarily speechless before. The man’s face then flushed red and he looked down at the table for a long moment, before looking back up, his blotchy cheeks still ruddy, looking like he might be about to say something. It was then that the shopkeeper came over to ask for their drinks. That seemed to break Mycroft out of his flustered state, his usual calm sliding back onto his face.

He ordered a raspberry tea this time, asking for it sweeter than usual, smiling kindly at the woman. Matilda seemed to be more or less interested in glaring at Greg while offering him concerned looks. It occurred to him how it must seem to her, having him come in after five weeks of being away, with him in a cast of all things. She probably was assuming that it was Greg’s fault, like most seemed to, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. He wasn’t about to explain the situation to her. Sighing, he leaned back and waited for her to get Greg’s order before speaking, returning to the subject of his face (but definitely not about him being adorable).

“You still could have said something. The aches and pains are bad enough. Besides, it’s not like I look in the mirror very often. I can barely stand to look at how big and stretched I’m getting, so I haven’t exactly taken a look up close.” He muttered, realised only a moment after what had left his lips. He looked away, focusing on the people going by out the window. So, he wasn’t too pleased with his changing form, but that was hardly new, right?

“You still going on about that?” he said, reaching out to straighten Mycroft’s tie even though it hadn’t been all that askew. It was all he could think of as an excuse to touch the man. “I mean seriously, Myc. It’s no big deal. You’re five months in, going on six, you look exactly as you should It’s not doing anything against you, you know. I think you look fine.”

That was how one mate reassured another, right? Friend mates, not bonded mates. He got that Mycroft had body issues, but he didn’t much understand it. So he gained a few pounds and is a bit blotchy, it didn’t matter much to Greg. He didn’t get why it mattered to Mycroft.

“‘Sides, what does it matter how you look? Trust me, you’re still intimidating and it’s not like you’re out there trying to catch a date or anything. Seriously, you’re still handsome. Marks and spots and all. Stop worrying about it.” He almost said to stop acting like such a girl but he had a feeling he would find out just what Mycroft’s brollies were really made of if he made that comment.

Luckily for him Mycroft didn’t get a chance to eviscerate Greg with a spoon or something of that sort when there was a loud crash and a shout from the old bat. Greg quickly whipped around, instinctively placing himself between Mycroft and the possible danger, only to find the awkward Omega from earlier profusely apologizing to Matilda. From the looks of it, he had knocked into her while she had been carrying their tea over.

Greg started to get up to ask if everything was alright but as soon as he moved the little man flinched then made his excuses. He was out the door before Greg could so much as think. “Seriously, does everyone think that I beat up Omegas on my spare time or something? I’m a bloody cop is what I am. I protect people for a living!”

Mycroft listened to Greg carefully, not saying anything. This time, he didn’t blush; remaining cold and calm, though there was a small sadness in his eyes. Who did Greg think he was fooling? Mycroft knew how he looked and if the Alpha saw the worst of it, he’d probably be inclined to agree. Contrary to what Greg had said, being intimidating was getting much harder. Few diplomats take you seriously when you can’t even see your own feet standing up. Well, he could still see his toes, but that was beside the point. That’s when he looked up.

Unlike Greg, Mycroft had been in the right position to see the whole thing. The Omega (who, now that he thought about it, looked rather familiar) had been walking towards the counter, not watching where he was going when Matilda came out with their tea. The Omega had stumbled at the two of them had collided rather awkwardly, knocking the teacups from her hands to the ground. Flustered, the man had tried to help her wipe it up, apologising the whole time, when Greg had started to move towards them and the Omega had fled. Matilda glared at both the quickly leaving Omega and then at Greg. Mycroft wasn’t surprised that the DI got relatively miffed about this.

“Greg, sit down and don’t make a scene.” He hissed, moving to tug the man back to his seat by the hand, his cheeks flushed. “I understand that you don’t take kindly to what people seem to think of you, but you have to remember that it’s just what they think they see and that isn’t always the truth.” Mycroft scowled. It wasn’t that he thought Greg was thinking rashly. No, he knew what it was like; people talked when you were unbonded and pregnant and not always out of earshot.  He squeezed Greg’s hand before releasing it. “Just calm down. I was hoping for a relaxing lunch.”

Greg sat down with a petulant huff, feeling right offended. “Well it’s not my fault some people can’t walk on their own two feet proper,” he grumbled, hunching his shoulders a bit. He hadn’t been trying to make a scene; he was just tired that people kept looking at him like he kicked Omegas in his spare time. He let out a short breath then glanced over his shoulder to see Matilda storm off to the door behind the front counter. It was like he couldn’t go anywhere without some kind of chaos landing on his head.

Matilda came back in a couple of minutes with an apology about their tea and a broom to clean up the mess. He thought about asking if she needed his help but thought against it. Not when she would likely shove that broom handle up certain places. Instead he returned his attention to Mycroft.

“She alright? I know how the baby gets when you’re worked up” he asked with concern, ready to place his hand on Mycroft’s belly to sooth her. Though he doubted Mycroft would suffer the indignity of a belly rub in the middle of his favourite cafe. “And I am sorry if I made a scene. I know you must be starvin’.” Sometimes he did try to remember that it was better to be honey sweet than vinegar sour. He was working on it.

Mycroft’s lips quirked up at Greg’s concern, one hand unconsciously smoothing over his rounded stomach. She was kicking him, rather harshly actually, in the ribs, but he didn’t want Greg to worry and he could manage. The fact that he was positively famished was probably annoying her to no end as well, but that could at least be rectified.

“She’s kicking up a little bit, but nothing I can't handle. She’s probably just as hungry as I am.” He replied easily, rolling his shoulders a bit. His back was feeling a bit tight, but nothing like his had before Greg had started helping him with the knots and he was still getting used to not being constantly achy. It was truly a welcomed reprieve.

Matilda soon came back with replacements for their ruined drinks, looking at them a little oddly this time, like she may be rethinking whatever she had originally thought and for that, Mycroft was glad. Their lunch orders soon taken, she left them to their tea. The Omega took a careful sip and looked pleased; he’d actually grown to enjoy the flavour. It was then that something came to him.

“I knew I recognised him!” He exclaimed, not loudly, but still a bit enthusiastically when he realised what had been so familiar about the man. “Edward Cooper. The man who bumped into Matilda. He’s Whitman’s Omega. Whitman being the Alpha who tried to charge us during my heat. I’ve heard things haven’t been going well for them actually. Unfortunately, the whole fiasco left Whitman in disgrace; no doubt Edward’s feeling it too. He looked.. rather well though. Bit of a nervous fellow, but I’m fairly sure he’s always been like that. He was always a bit shy at social gatherings…”

Greg was glad for the reprieve from his tea. He missed the simple, proper earl greys in the morning that provided a decent caffeine buzz. But the smell would put Mycroft off and Greg would feel guilty for indulging in something that he knew Mycroft missed. But white tea, now that was blasphemy. Though he could tell quickly that Matilda didn’t tamper with it though in spite and there wasn’t much that copious amounts of sugar couldn’t fix.

“Well, the Alpha had all but killed a man in his rut. Seriously thought the bugger was going to tear my head off when I tried to get to you. Can’t say I blame him,” he said with a quick, crooked smile while reaching for the sugar. “But yeah, I suppose I feel sorry for the Omega. I hope they don’t have kids getting in the thick of it. Always worse when kids are involved.”

The Omega seemed a right mess already, though Mycroft apparently thought him well. Greg supposed he really didn’t know what the norm was when it came to Omegas. There were so few in the force, Susan had been a Beta, so he supposed that being a nervous wreck was normal. He tried to picture Mycroft as a bumbling, soft thing with nervous twitching, or for that matter, Sherlock. Which was the wrong thing to think about when sipping now too sweet tea. He nearly choked himself trying not to laugh.

The elder Holmes thought about Edward Cooper for a long moment, going over what he knew about him. He’d always been very shy and easily flustered from what Mycroft could tell. Alexander Whitman, Cooper’s mate, was a colleague of Mycroft’s, or he had been up until Mycroft’s heat, and the pregnant Omega knew for a fact that Whitman and Cooper’s personalities were very different.  He wasn’t sure if they had children or not though.

Usually, if someone in his line of work had children and they could hide that fact, they would. Mycroft couldn’t really do that… considering… He glanced down at his stomach, trying to ignore their daughter battering his ribs. No, he could very much _not_ hide the fact he was having a child. He had never said a word about it unless he was asked and still everyone knew. They’d have to be blind not to.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow when the other man laughed. Greg’s line of thought had obviously taken him somewhere amusing as Mycroft was fairly sure he wouldn’t be laughing at the last statement he’d made. At least Mycroft hoped not.

“Care to share what you find so entertaining, Gregory?” He asked, curious. Their food would be here in a moment and Mycroft usually ended up rather engrossed in that for the first five minutes or so when he was hungrier than usual, but he liked to get conversation where he could. And, obviously, whatever Greg had thought of was rather humorous and Mycroft didn’t want to miss out.

Greg looked up at Mycroft, then bit down on his lip to quell another round of laughter. He was picturing Mycroft in the outfit he wore at the clinic before the ultrasound, all soft looking and not his usual, imposing self. But even so he still couldn’t imagine that man being a soft spoken, blushing Omega. It was easier to imagine Mycroft than Sherlock, but he still couldn’t fully form the picture.

“Seriously, what is up with you and your brother? I mean, I’m trying to picture you guys like that other Omega, all soft and shy and kinda adorable in a sad way. I just can’t do it though. Trying to see you without your patent disapproving glare?” He dipped his head to quiet the sound of his rumbling laughter, his chest shaking with it. When he looked back up he nearly lost it because there was that look, right there on Mycroft’s face. By the time he finally calmed down he could smell their lunch coming out of the kitchen.

“Not to say I’m complaining, of course. Never been attracted to that sort myself. I like you just the way you are. Though Sherlock could benefit from a tad bit of humility, the vain arse that he is.” He didn’t say that he thought Mycroft could do with a little bit less vanity as well, grumbling as he was about completely normal spots. In a way he liked that about Mycroft too, the insecurities. It was more normal than the man probably realised. Even Greg was insecure about some things.

Mycroft frowned when Greg didn’t answer immediately and proceeded to hold back another laugh. Apparently the DI was having a joke at the elder Holmes’ expense. Which turned out to be true when Greg finally did speak. Mycroft fixed him with a scathing look, which only caused Greg to laugh even more. The Omega let out a frustrated sigh.

“There’s a reason Sherlock and I are the way we are, you know.” He snapped, pausing when their lunches came. He ignored his food for the moment, even though he was hungry. “It was either become what we are, close ourselves off from our emotions and our statuses as Omegas and become something, or let our parents choose our mates so they could have ties with other high standing families. If I had been soft and shy, I’d have been mated to an Alpha I barely knew once I became a legal adult and pregnant by the age of nineteen, expected to pump out children for the rest of my life.” The Omega pushed his food around with his fork in irritation for a moment, before his shoulders sagged. “So, as you can see… being soft and shy wasn’t an option for me.”

Mycroft then started eating, just paying attention to his food and filling his belly. He was staving after all and not even getting snappish after having a nasty side to the way his family had worked dredged up could deter his hunger. Fortunately, the baby was calming down a little bit too. The man sighed, but didn’t say anything. Didn’t say how he’d worked long and hard to get where he was. Didn’t talk about how Sherlock had just run and gotten into drugs and other dangerous things. No, Mycroft didn’t say those things because really, he just wanted to enjoy his lunch and all that was the past anyhow.

Greg scrubbed a hand through his hair as Mycroft tucked in. Now he felt like a prat and was ashamed for laughing. He had known a bit about the Holmes brothers, like the kind of home they grew up in and the pressures they must have faced. And oh did he know more about Sherlock’s struggles than he had wanted to. He hadn’t meant to poke fun or hit a nerve, but he had and he knew he needed to fix it.

The chair scraped against the linoleum as he changed from the one across from Mycroft to the chair right next to him. Before he could be deterred, he dropped his hand on Mycroft’s stomach, right over the firm bump that was their daughter. He felt a small flutter, not quite a kick, like she was rolling closer. He tried not to focus on that or he would get entirely distracted.

“Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it. Honest, Myc. I’m sorry I hit a nerve. I know what you two went through, trust me, I know, and I’m sorry if you thought I was making fun.” He gave Mycroft’s stomach a quick rub before taking his hand away.

“Like I said, I’m glad for what you made yourself to be and as far as I knew, I thought you were happy with the life you made. You broke through the stereotype that hounded you and became your own man. That’s great. Admirable. Seriously. I just thought it was funny trying to imagine you as being part of the norm. Then again, I’m apparently a crap excuse for an Alpha, so I don’t even know what normal is. But I am sorry if I stepped on your toes again. Seem to be doing that a bit today, huh?” He gave a boyish shrug with a self-deprecating smile, just trying to diffuse the situation and getting back into Mycroft’s good graces.

Mycroft flushed when Greg moved and settled his hand on the Omega’s belly, as they were in public of all places and he wasn’t completely comfortable with such open displays of affection, but he could manage. Really, he was more focused on what Greg was saying, putting his fork down while he listened. When the man finally finished, Mycroft’s lips turned up slightly.

“You may be a ‘crap excuse for an Alpha’ as you put it, but that isn’t a bad thing, seeing as the societal norm for Alphas tends to be a bunch of power hungry knot-heads with a better-than-thou complex.” He mused, feeling a good bit better. “That being said, you don’t have to treat me like glass. It’s hardly your fault that I get moody from time to time.” With that, he returned to his lunch, smiling a little. All was forgiven.

It was odd how... normal it felt. Talking with Greg and bickering about little things. Anyone who happened to look at them probably thought they were just another couple with a little one on the way.  Someone looking on wouldn’t know about the deceit and harsh words that had created what they had. What did they have? Mycroft wasn’t sure. Shaking his head inwardly, he finished his lunch, feeling full and satisfied, before glancing at Greg.

“Well then. Ready to go?”

Biting back the comment that technically Mycroft’s pregnancy induced mood swings were his fault, he instead smiled back and tucked into his toastie. They carried on with companionable silence, Greg feeling that he had done well to lighten the situation. Really, he just didn’t want to drive back to the townhouse with Mycroft plotting his disappearance. He had a few hours before he needed to get back to the station; he knew that was all it would take Mycroft and Anthea to plot.

He was just swallowing down the last bite when Mycroft addressed him again. Cold white tea followed down his gut, inducing a shudder at the bitterness and Greg was happy to get going. He pushed out of his chair and stood by as usual, just in case Mycroft needed assistance. It was why he was there, after all.

“Yeah, could use some vegging out for a bit. Aircon’s out at the Met so trying not to think about having to go back in,” he said with a grimace. The couch and telly was calling his name he could hear it.

Once Mycroft was to his feet, Greg unconsciously dropped his hand to the small of Mycroft’s back then gently steered them out to the car. They were met with a hot whoosh of afternoon air, making the trip back to air conditioning a quick one. He made a mental note to add ‘cold beer’ to his list of things with his name on them.

The heat of when they stepped outside, made Mycroft bristle. It was just the perfect temperature to get directly under his skin and he hated it. It made his antsy and irritable and rubbed him wrong in every way. Maybe it was simply from bad experience. Mycroft was the type that didn’t tan. No, he burned. Badly. One summer that had actually been halfway tolerable in his youth had been a trip to a pleasant lakeside cabin his parents owned and Mycroft had learned just how badly he could burn after neglecting to put on sunscreen. Sherlock had teased him about it for the rest of the trip.

Sighing, he got into the car, not having minded Greg’s hand. He really was growing used to the other man’s touches and he welcomed them as they often meant well. Greg was warm and kind with his hands, always so good at easing away the tension where it was needed. Mycroft appreciated it immensely. Greg always seemed to be able to tell whenever Mycroft needed his back or neck rubbed, or when the baby was kicking a little too much.

It brought back memories of that night a week ago. Greg had shown weakness, he’d had a nightmare and Mycroft had opened up to him. Let him touch him, feel the baby move and then he had so deliciously massaged the ache in Mycroft’s back away and the Omega had never been so content in his life. The contact was something he craved without even knowing it and when he’d finally gotten it, it had been amazing. So warm, and close and- Mycroft’s cheeks flushed as he realised, a little irritably, where his mind was leading him. But he couldn’t exactly help it. His hormones were pumping and with every little, fleeting touch over the past week... The man bit his lip and tried to think of anything else as they drove back to the townhouse. It wasn’t working too well.

Greg added to the list of ‘the things I do for Mycroft Holmes,’ when he waited dutifully behind Mycroft while letting the man enter the town house first when he had wanted nothing more than to rush out of the heat. He could smell other people all around the street because of it and it was making him edgy, and a bit over protective, (he refused to consider it as possessiveness) considering the way he was crowding Mycroft’s back as the man made up past that one damning step.

“I’ll never complain about the winter again if we can just get past this heat,” he swore as he finally got inside and closed the door. One thing was to be said about the sweltering temperature though; it did make Mycroft’s scent sharper.

It drove Greg nuts as much as it served to be a balm. Nuts because he couldn’t stop getting too close just to get a stronger whiff and walking behind the man meant that he had the perfect view to watch a drop of sweat roll down Mycroft’s neck to disappear under his collar. Greg licked his lips because he couldn’t chase the drop with his tongue.

“Here, let me get that.” He placed his hand on the small of Mycroft’s back again to pluck the jacket from the Omega’s arms, turning around to hang it up with his hand sliding over the soft fabric of Mycroft’s shirt as he moved. He was just being a gentleman, hanging up Mycroft’s coat. Totally not an excuse to touch and imprint his scent on the other man. Of course not.

Mycroft was well aware of how close Greg was to him the whole time as they went inside and he desperately tried to ignore him. He was just being protective, making sure Mycroft didn’t fall again, it wasn’t.. Mycroft swallowed thickly, his skin still warm. Getting inside was a relief, the cold air pressing against him. He let out a sigh, he’d be fine. He could handle this on his own; it was just hormones after all.

Then, Greg’s hand was on his back, pulling his blazer out of his arms. Mycroft was painfully aware of that warm, rough wonderful hand and he almost whimpered when they slid away from him. It was hot out, he reminded himself, it was hot and the hormones were rushing and what he was feeling wasn’t anything more than a chemical reaction and- Damn it all, the last thing he’d fucked was his mattress while in the grips of a dream _about the man right in front of him_.

Not even caring anymore, Mycroft gripped Greg by the shoulder and roughly turned him around, pressing him against the wall as he crushed their lips together in a sudden heated need. His blood sang with want. The tension had finally built to the point that Mycroft just couldn’t take it and, God damn it, he needed sex and he needed it now. Pressing further into the harsh kiss, he ground his hips as best he could against Greg’s with his belly in the way. He managed though. After all, he had the height advantage.

Greg’s fingertips had just left the inviting warmth of Mycroft’s body when the Omega decided to tip Greg’s world completely upside down. Next he knew he was pushed against the wall, a choked, surprised sound leaving his throat as Mycroft kissed him like a force of nature. His eyes popped open, hands twitching at his side. For a moment there was just static between his ears until his instincts kicked in and his body all but screamed the fact that Mycroft was kissing him and Greg needed to do something.

The right thing in that situation was probably to gently push Mycroft away and chalk it up to hormones. Greg did not do the right thing. A needy growl erupted from his chest as Mycroft ground against him and his hands closed around Mycroft’s shoulders to hold him close so he could rut back. The moment he gave in fire sang in his veins and he was rock hard in 0-60. He didn’t want to think of the whys or what was going to happen after, instead completely lost himself to the rough kiss, nipping and licking at Mycroft’s mouth until he was given permission to ravish.

And good God they hadn’t kissed enough the first time. There was no desperate need to fuck and breed, just the normal desperation of two randy men and it was brilliant. Gave Greg the time to skim his hands up Mycroft’s arms, up and down his back, ruck up his shirt and try to make a mess of him as much as Mycroft was making a mess of Greg and bloody hell did kissing Mycroft alone make him feel like a wreck.

Mycroft snaked his arms around Greg’s neck, his hands scaling up the back of his head to thread into the Alpha’s silvery hair. It was coarse and short and tangible and Mycroft loved the texture of it between his fingers. Pulling Greg closer, he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue into Greg’s mouth as he continued to rut.

Mycroft heatedly explored Greg’s mouth, taking in everything he could. The DI’s lips were a little chapped, but his mouth was wet and warm and tasted of white tea. They had shared a few brutal kisses during his heat, but this time, Mycroft was taking his time. He was horny, but all in all, Mycroft wasn’t the hungry, rutting animal every Omega came off as during their heats. No, in the bedroom, Mycroft was a tease.

The man continued to rut once or twice more before removing one of his hands from Greg’s hair and pulled him from the wall by the lapels. Then both hands dropped to the DI’s shoulders and pulled off the man’s jacket, sliding it down his arms before moving them and pressing his fingers into Greg’s sides down to his hips.

Greg swallowed back a whimper when Mycroft’s encompassing heat was taken away, the sound that escaped him more like a choked grunt. He tried to chase Mycroft’s sinful mouth, only to find himself pulled away from the wall and his jacket being pushed down his arms. He struggled out of the dark blazer just so he could get his hands back on Mycroft’s shoulders, the man’s long digits on his hips eliciting a shiver and a soft moan.

Once more he tried to initiate a case just to quell the need to do something with his mouth, but Mycroft kept evading him with a teasing glint in his eyes. Greg knew if he talked he would probably say something really bloody stupid, like anything along the lines of stopping where this was leading.

And it was definitely leading into Mycroft’s temporary bedroom, their stride only hindered by the staccato rhythm of the cast. Didn’t bother Greg much, only helped to build the anticipation between them. Now there was a different kind of heat in the air, making his palms sweat beneath the soft cotton of Mycroft’s shirt. He itched to get after buttons and belts, but not until they were settled, not until he knew that his over eagerness wasn’t going to send them arse over teakettle because he made Mycroft trip.

Eventually they were backed up against Mycroft’s bedroom door, which Mycroft took advantage to pillage Greg’s mouth once more as he reached back and turned the knob. The door swung open as he pushed it gently with his cast-covered foot. He knew the room be heart now and knew the only thing he could trip on was his bed, which would just mean them falling onto it. That being said, having Greg come down on top of him probably wasn’t that good of an idea.

Nonetheless, he started working open the buttons of Greg’s shirt, leaning in an nipping at the other man’s throat as he lead them the last few feet to his bed. With several buttons open, he slid down and bit at Greg’s collarbone, his rounded stomach pressed carefully against Greg’s flat one. He needed this, God he did. Finally getting the man’s shirt off, he surveyed his chest, taking in the scars from years working as a cop. Without a second thought, his head was back up as he captured Greg’s mouth again, entwining their tongues.

It then occurred to him that they could be doing all this on the bed and realised why they weren’t yet. He had absolutely no idea how to safely have sex while pregnant. He knew it was generally safe to _have sex_ while pregnant, but he didn’t know how to do it comfortably without crushing the baby. It was something he’d never bothered to research. He broke the kiss panting and met Greg’s eyes, holding a hope that Greg might know what to do and asking him to take the lead for the moment, even if they weren’t quite to the having sex part yet.

The sudden chill on his skin woke Greg a bit from his aroused state. He slowly blinked his eyes open, feeling heady still from not getting enough oxygen to the brain and heavy breathing being of no help in that cause. Again he felt like he should say something, but again didn’t think that would be a good idea. Instead he licked his kiss bruised lips, picking up the faintest trace of Mycroft on his tongue.

He then darted forward, for once without being dodged, to place a quick kiss to the corner of Mycroft’s lips, then another on the other side, and another to the plump bottom lip. All the while he quickly popped open the buttons of his shirt, just getting it open so he could slide his hands over warm skin. He hadn’t yet been given permission to touch under the shirt yet, so it was a bit of a rush to watch his hands glide over the firm curve, eyes riveted on the pale skin where it met livid red lines. It was astounding that under a few layers of tissue and muscle was their baby girl and he found it to be breathtaking.

Without much thinking about it he bent down to place a kiss over the swell then guided his lips up Mycroft’s sternum, his hands still wrapped firmly around his stomach. He couldn’t help but feel that sharp bite of anticipation, waiting for Mycroft to stop him but if he was given the chance to prove that the marks didn’t bother him a bit, he was going to take it.

Mycroft had started to feel a little uncomfortable when Greg began to remove his shirt. He wasn’t exactly proud of his body at the moment and he didn’t want to deter Greg by how he looked. He was about to say something, but couldn’t really get a word in until he felt Greg’s hands on his stomach and almost flinched. But then, the man was caressing the curve, bending down and kissing it before pressing his lips to Mycroft chest.

The Omega’s heart lifted when he found Greg didn’t seem bothered, threading his fingers back into Greg’s hair and pulling him back up for another full on kiss, though this one was sweeter and filled with gratitude. Eventually he let his hands fall, going and fumbling with the other man’s belt buckle. His own trousers were those stretchy kind that settled on the curve of his stomach, though they looked like well-tailored suit trousers, and would be relatively easy for Greg to get off in comparison to what he was struggling with. Finally, he got the buckle undone, the button and zip soon following, then allowing him to push the garment off Greg’s hips.

His lips moved, tasting all of Greg he could, tasting his scent and sweat and skin. He nibbled the man’s earlobe and kissed at the corner of his jaw, his hands running over the Alpha’s buttocks and up his back. God, his skin was warm and as Mycroft pressed his hips forward to grind himself against the other man’s there was no mistaking just how hard he was too. Mycroft shuddered, remembering just what it was like to have that cock up inside him and making him feel all the more warm.

Greg moaned helplessly at Mycroft’s ministrations. He was used to being the assertive one in bed, taking the lead and what he wanted, but instead he was completely frozen by the feel of Mycroft’s mouth on him then the press of their groins. The slow burn erupted with a newfound desperation and he found that he couldn’t get his trousers off fast enough, kicking them and his socks somewhere across the room. Next came his pants, shed off without a shred of self-consciousness. It wasn’t like Mycroft hadn’t seen that much before.

“Your turn,” he said gruffly, the first thing he said since they entered. It didn’t break the spell though, but him falling happily to his knees with his hands tugging on the elastic hem of Mycroft’s trousers might have something to do about that. Last time he hadn’t really been given much of a look of Mycroft’s front lower half and he aimed to fix that.

He kissed skin where he could as he eased the fabric around the cast, careful not to tip the man over. He couldn’t get enough of it, tasting Mycroft’s slightly furred thighs, the side of his knee, the swell of his belly. Soon trousers were off, leaving Mycroft only in his pants. Greg skimmed his hands up the warm muscle of Mycroft’s legs until he could curl his fingers under the hem of Mycroft’s pants. Then he stayed there for a moment, cheek pressed against Mycroft’s thigh so he could just breathe the man in. He didn’t linger, though he wished he could, but there may be time enough for that later.

With the slightest of tugging, he leaned back and looked up, silently asking for permission. He knew Mycroft couldn’t stand for too long but Greg really wanted to see all of him, taste all of him, before they tumbled onto the bed.

Mycroft wasn’t sure when it happened but suddenly Greg was completely naked, down in front of him, pulling his trousers down and taking special care with his cast, following Mycroft’s skin with his lips. It made the man feel a bit wobbly as his breath shuddered but he kept his balance for now. His heart rate was up and his blood was warm and thrumming as it pumped through his veins, his want growing with each touch.

The Omega lifted his feet so the garment could be pulled away, watched as the Alpha curved his fingers into the waistband of his pants, rested his face on his inner thigh for a moment, most likely getting the thick of his scent. Mycroft’s smaller, Omega cock was straining against the fabric and his breaths were coming out warm and a little needy. Greg then looked up at him, eyes wanting and Mycroft nodded, gasping when he was finally released from the garment, stepping out of it.

He had to sit down before he felt over though, because if this was going where he thought it might, his legs would definitely give out if he were standing. The Omega sat down quickly, with a small whuff of air escaping his lips. His skin was flushed and his cock was pointing straight up like a lewd flag, painting a small line of precum on his rounded belly. He gave Greg a look, a smirk on his face.

“You didn’t really expect me to stand the whole time, did you?” He mused, he own first words warm and husky.

Greg shrugged, his smile crooked and a touch bashful. “Not easy to think right now, to be honest,” he said then shuffled on his knees to get back in front of Mycroft, luckily not having to move too much and risk that bad of a rug burn. That small bit of embarrassment behind him, he gently urged Mycroft’s knees apart, getting Mycroft to open up for him.

Saliva flooded his mouth at the sight of Mycroft’s cock, erect and nestled in a thatch of dark ginger hair. He smoothed his hands up the Omega’s thighs, just enjoying the warmth of his heated skin while he licked his lips. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting this,” he sighed, licking his lips.

He glanced up once, feeling his cheeks heat with a blush at his admission, before throwing caution to the wind and just getting on with it. It was a tentative lick at first, to the head of Mycroft’s cock. He tasted a sharp bitterness that didn’t deter him a bit. With more courage he lathed the fat but short prick from root to tip, taking as much as he could into his mouth before Mycroft’s belly got in the way.

It wasn’t supposed to be more than a tease, a taste and something to check off his list of things he wanted to do to Mycroft, but God it was still brilliant. Mycroft’s scent washed over him, thick and strong at his groin, sending Greg into a dizzy. He was so bloody hard he ached with it but he’d be damned if he didn’t take his time. He didn’t know what brought this on all of a sudden, wasn’t sure if Mycroft would ever drop his guard down again, so Greg was going to make it memorable.

Mycroft’s breathe shuddered when he first felt Greg’s tongue on the sensitive tip of his cock and his fingers twisted in the sheets when it was enveloped in the man’s hot, wet mouth. Dear God, he’d had been given head before, but for whatever reason, it had never been like this. He gasped and leaned his head back, his eyes shut as he focused on the sensation.

The man’s hips bucked a little into the wet cavern as he whimpered a little with need. Greg was teasing him and Mycroft needed so much more, but God, this man’s mouth. He remembered back to when the Alpha had rimmed him during his heat, which only served to make him harder. But, for the moment, Greg seemed content with seeing to what he had neglected during their first encounter and Mycroft didn’t know if he wanted to groan in pleasure or frustration. The former won out.

“Gregory..” He whined, his breathing short as he wiggled his hips a bit. “God, you have no idea…” He squeezed his eyes closed again for a moment, his breath hitching as pleasure thrummed through him, making him squirm. “G-Greg please. God, that’s amazing. I need.. I don’t think I’ll last if you keep that up.” He panted, looking down at how Greg swallowed his cock and finding he could barely breathe.

Greg didn’t know whether to feel smug or pop off and get Mycroft in the best position so he could hurry up and take the man. There was no heat urging him on into madness, there would be no knotting, but damn if he didn’t remember how good Mycroft felt around his cock and he was about to die if he didn’t hurry up and relieved that. Still he slid off of Mycroft’s cock slowly, savouring the drag of hardened flesh against his tongue.

Once he was settled back with his bum resting against his heels he licked his lips and smiled up at Mycroft. The man looked as wrecked as Greg felt and that was a sure fire hit to his ego. Now the question was how to proceed with Mycroft’s big belly and bulky cast, though he might have an idea for that. He smoothed his hands back up Mycroft’s legs and was sure to keep the man’s gaze.

“I think I know the best way to continuing. You trust me?”

Mycroft let out one more gasp as Greg finally released him, the other man looking what Mycroft could only describe as wolfish, though not in a bad way. Then, Greg’s touches were soft and their eyes met, Greg holding them. Mycroft blinked when he was asked.

 _Completely._ That’s what he wanted to say outright, but that seemed to forward, even if it was true. There was honestly no one else he could think of that he trusted more than Greg. Sherlock lied; Anthea’s loyalty was through money, even if she did seem to care, but Greg… Greg was there because Mycroft had needed him. Just because he cared. And Mycroft trusted him.

The Omega just nodded however, swallowing as he gazed down at Greg’s cock for a moment. Whatever Greg’s idea was, he was willing, as long as it meant having Greg’s deliciously long and thick prick inside him, screwing him six ways from Sunday.

“What do you have in mind?”

Greg trailed feather light kisses up the knobs of Mycroft's spine after they got him into a more comfortable position. Mycroft was kneeling up on a pile of pillows, arms braced on the headboard with his bum ankle cushioned as well. It was the best Greg could think of at the spur of the moment but he was certainly enjoying the view.

"Just let me know if it doesn't work for you, yeah? We'll figure something else out." He pressed a sucking kiss to the freckled skin of Mycroft's shoulder while sliding his hand down to Mycroft's bum. He was going to need to halt proceedings in a moment... Or not.

"Hey. Oh Jesus hello." Greg gasped against the nape of Mycroft's neck when his exploring fingers found Mycroft already wet for him. Not gushing, not like a heat, but still wet and after wriggling the tip of his finger just past the ring, definitely ready. He moaned low and a bit overwhelmed, his breaths coming out in fast, humid pants. Well that was a pleasant surprise.

"I thought... Jesus you're so wet. I thought you lot only produce your own lube during heats. You can't... You can't go into heat while pregnant."

Mycroft shifted a little, finding he was in fact comfortable and his skin flushed. He’d intended for this to be a quick and desperate fuck, because God, did he need it, but it was turning a lot more intimate than he’d anticipated. He found he didn’t actually mind that much though. Greg was putting special attention to make sure he was comfortable and Mycroft wasn’t about to reject having sex for the first time in six months because Greg cared.

He shivered with anticipation as Greg kissed down his back, loving the feeling of the other man’s lips on his skin. God, he really was starved for contact. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had treated him so… tenderly. He then all but whined when the Alpha’s hand was down at his arse, making him squirm when the man’s fingers pressed against and into his hole. He still smirked at Greg’s confused statement though.

“I think.. you’ll be surprised to find that I’ve been like that since.. I got pregnant in the first place. It seems to rather be a novelty of pregnancy.” He murmured, pushing back against Greg’s finger. “I think it’s an extra precaution to flush out bacteria, but admittedly, it’s incredibly convenient for other activities as well. Speaking of which, can you get on with it?”

Greg grazed his teeth over the jut of vertebra while pushing his index finger deeper. There was a bit of resistance, and God, Mycroft was so tight. Greg’s cock pulsed just thinking how fantastic he was going to feel inside the man. But he wasn’t a mindless beast, he was going to bloody enjoy this while he could, no matter how much Mycroft yelled or beg. Now that was a thought, getting Mycroft to beg him for it again.

“You’re a pushy bottom, aren’t you?” he drawled as he slowly moved his finger away just to push two against Mycroft’s clenching hole and pushing in. He moaned as the constricting heat surrounded his digits, Mycroft’s body practically pulling him in deeper. “Maybe I want you to convince me to hurry up.” He slowly pumped his fingers in and out a few time before pushing them in deep and curling to try and find Mycroft’s prostate. “Cause I’m so enjoying this.”

Mycroft’s body shuddered and Greg pressed in more, quickly adjusting to the intrusion and clenching wetly around the digit, wanting so much more. He was about to tell Greg just that when the man teased, and suddenly it was a game. A game of words, teasing and pleasure. Mycroft could manage.

“Oh, you would just love to see me beg again, wouldn’t you?” The Omega quipped, biting back a moan as the Alpha breached him further, this time with two fingers. “But surely you can’t say that having your fingers inside me is better than having your cock there.” He let out a gasp of pleasure as the man’s fingers brushed the small bundle of nerves within.

“Because… you could get me off like this all day- God, you really are good with your hands, aren’t you?... But… I hardly see… Oh, God… what you get out of that deal. Surely you want to be inside me as much… as much as I want you there.” He let out a sharp moan, and pressed back hungrily on Greg’s fingers as they hit the mark dead on. “Gregory, _please_.”

“Only because you asked so nicely,” he groaned while sliding his fingers out. Mycroft jerked in his arms, inciting Greg to wrap an arm under his belly and place a kiss between his shoulder blades, a promise that he was going to fill him soon enough.

With another wet kiss along the bumps of Mycroft’s spine, he moved into place, hoisting Mycroft up just a tad bit, he then took his cock in hand, biting back a groan at the feel of his slippery fingers wet from Mycroft closing around his prick. There was something to be said about the stamina gained with age, he probably would have lost it already were he a young man. That said, he didn’t exactly have the strength of will of a saint and his overheated body was screaming at him to hurry the fuck up.

“Bear down for me, pet,” he gasped as he pushed against Mycroft’s hole, slowly rolling his hips up to meet Mycroft’s downwards push. The heat between them was incredible, the salt on Mycroft’s skin tasted divine. As Mycroft took more of him Greg groaned with utter relief while drinking it all in. It was like nothing during a heat, no instincts to fuck and breed getting in the way of him savouring the hot clench of velvet around his cock. Perfect. Dear lord Mycroft felt amazing.

Mycroft bore down and moaned as Greg entered him, his muscles twitching around the Alpha’s cock. God, it felt so much more amazing when he was actually able to pay attention to what they were doing. Utterly stunning. The man keened as he was stretched, hungrily impaling himself on Greg’s cock. Dear lord, he didn’t remember it being so long and he felt full as he pushed himself down to its root.

He clenched around it tightly before pulling forward a little before pressing back again, urging Greg to get moving. The Omega readjusted his grip on the headboard, panting slightly as he held back some rather pathetic whimpers. His skin was warm and flushed and slowly growing slick with sweat. He could already tell this was going to be nothing like he had ever experienced before, pleasure already singing in his veins.

He’d read that sex during pregnancy was safe and generally expected as most Omegas would feel the press on their sexual organs, mixed with their hormones, making them randy beyond belief. He had just never believed he would fall into that category. As it would turn out, he was no exception and now he actually found he was enjoying that fact. After all, he’d also read that sex during pregnancy was amazing if done right. Clenching his muscles again, he decided he was very much looking forward to that.

“I got ya, I got ya.” One arm braced under Mycroft’s belly, the Omega’s cock smearing precum over his skin, and another hand wrapped around Mycroft’s shoulder, Greg rolled his hips to meet Mycroft’s demanding little trusts. Mycroft really was a pushy bottom though, never much giving Greg all the control, but the Alpha wasn’t complaining.

Once they found their rhythm it was easy. Quick, slick rolling movements, their harsh panting filling the air. It was the marvel of it that gave Greg any chance of holding on, to be honest. Balls deep in the ginger, any man would be barking to want it to end. Mycroft was all power and grace even with his current handicaps. Greg could only imagine what sex would be like when Mycroft was at a hundred percent, just pure, regular sex. But damn he wasn’t sure how it could be any more amazing.

The problem was it was too good. It had been too long since he had more than his fist and a hot shower, the slick slide of bodies, the little noises he could pull out of Mycroft, it was too much. He was closer than he wanted to be a lot faster than he had hoped so he needed to get Mycroft on the same page. His thighs were burning from the position, his body coiled tight with the need of release, but he had enough control to reign himself in until he knew what would get Mycroft tipping over as well.

“Can you come like this?” He gave a particularly hard thrust, angling his hips just right to push his thick cock against that secret bundle of nerves. “Tell me what you need,” he growled, mouthing hungrily at the crook of Mycroft’s neck.

Mycroft was being taken apart with each thrust, panting and moaning. Dear God, he never would have imagined it being this good. Each thrust left him breathless; sweat trickling down his back and neck. There was a solid coil of hunger and need curled in his belly as the weight of their child pressed against the various organs, making the tension tighter.

Then, Greg was ramming into his prostate and he was seeing stars, pleasure ripping through him, drowning out any reasonable thought for several long moments. A small orgasm shivered through him, but it wasn’t enough. An Omega could manage four or five orgasms in one session before they had a big one, more if they were lucky, but Mycroft doubted he could manage another one before coming apart completely.

“I’m.. God, I think… I think I could come just like this.” He admitted, his voice heavy with pleasure. “Oh, God. Right there. That’s-” Mycroft cut himself off with a loud moan at having his prostate hit dead on, leaving him panting for air. “Could.. could you touch me? I don’t think I’ll last much longer if you do, but God.. I need it. I need it so badly.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Greg moaned helplessly, the grip on Mycroft’s shoulder tightening so he could push Mycroft down harder on his cock with each thrust. He sucked Mycroft’s earlobe between his lips just as he wrapped his hand around the Omega’s wet cock, not so much as pumping him but squeezing in a pulsing rhythm that almost matched the jerk of his hips.

He nibbled and sucked on the flesh of Mycroft’s ear, though not quite stifling his own growls of pleasure each time Mycroft convulsed around him. Greg didn’t know if he was coming again or aftershocks or what, but it was getting damn hard to control himself.

His own climax was a red hot build up in the pit of his stomach, slow and tense. He could feel his balls drawing up tight, the anticipation making his toes curl. He squeezed a little harder, tried to make sure his aim was still true, tried to find what was good for Mycroft, but he was still just a man.

“I can’t... God Myc! Gonna...” Moaning like a dying man he bit down hard on the firm muscle of Mycroft’s shoulder, just short of the join of his neck, and saw fireworks. The slow build promised a hard and explosive release, his whole body jerking with his orgasm. It was a sharp pleasure, right on the border of pain and just bloody perfect. If pleasure could kill, he would die a happy man.

Mycroft was a mess. Between Greg pounding into him and the man’s hand on his cock, the Omega knew he wouldn’t last. He was gasping for air and moaning, his body having no idea what it was supposed to do, trying to thrust both into Greg’s hand and back onto his cock. The stimulation was overwhelming and, God, was he close.

He came harshly directly after Greg did, his whole body spasming as he did his best not to simply collapse. Though, thanks to the pillows, it was unlikely that doing so would cause much damage. His head was thrown forward between his arms, his eyes squeezed shut as he released onto the sheets with a shout. When the orgasm was finally finished with him, leaving him feeling relatively boneless and out of breath, only then did he feel the pain in his shoulder.

For a moment, he panicked, thinking Greg had initiated a bond, but only then did he remember that such things could only happen when the Omegas and Alphas hormones were at a certain synthesis that only occurred during heat. Greg had just bitten him in the moment of climax, nothing more. He let out a soft breath of frustration.

“If that hadn’t been as utterly amazing as it was and if you hadn’t left me completely spent, I’d cuff you for biting me. That actually rather hurt.” After a moment, he relaxed though, too wrapped up in post-coital bliss to really care. “Now… if you wouldn’t mind, could you help me onto my side?”

Breathlessly Greg laughed, his forehead pressed against Mycroft’s shoulder. He knew he should feel bad for biting Mycroft, but he hadn’t drawn blood and it wasn’t like he had forced a bond. Slowly he eased out with a slick, squelching sound, God the sheets were going to be wrecked, then gently helped Mycroft down onto the bed.

“Sorry,” he said, though he wasn’t really. He felt fantastic, muscles singing from the much needed abuse, and high still on the rush. With Mycroft settled as comfortably as possibly, Greg clung a pillow to his chest then flopped down with his head turned toward Mycroft. He couldn’t help but admire the man post coital, skin flushed and blending more in with his freckles, a sheen of sweat covering his form. Mycroft looked delectable and debauched and Greg wouldn’t mind another go when their bodies had a bet of a rest.

“I’ll try to be more careful next time,” he said around a yawn, tugging the pillow up to better rest his head. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt as good as he did and with the freedom to just bask. He still had a few hours left until work. Unless Mycroft wanted to kick him out, Greg felt a short nap in the afterglow was in perfect order. He couldn’t think of a better idea, in fact. Just a short rest. Was all he needed.

And Mycroft, as tired and boneless as he was, yawned and followed suit. For the moment, he seemed to agree.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes happiness was just the calm before the storm.

Admittedly, it had been a while since Greg had to deal with the awkward ‘morning after.’ He had woken up from his post-coital nap to Mycroft running off with the sheet like modesty actually mattered and felt it had been his cue to get up and leave. By the time Mycroft might have left the loo, Greg had used the rarely visited upstairs shower then left for work. It had been a bit cowardly, he knew, but he never said he was the bravest of men.

By the time he finally got home, and if he stayed out late it was because he was working on the case, not avoiding certain people, Mycroft had already gone to bed. But now it was morning and he could smell tea and Mycroft’s breakfast, (and Mycroft) and he supposed a man could hide under the blankets for so long. Not that his warm cocoon wasn’t the most comfortable thing at that moment. Still, tea was calling.

He did stall a bit though. Stumbled in the loo, debated whether he wanted to shave to stall for more time or wait for his morning shower, kicked himself for being an idiot, then finally stumbled his way into the kitchen. Amazing how little awkward he felt when he was still half brain dead. It was eight in the morning, or somewhere around there, for Christ’s sake. But a morning person Greg Lestrade was not.

“Morning.” There, he made contact first. Granted Mycroft was behind a paper and he had his back to the Omega and his voice was shot by sleep so he probably didn’t do more than mumble something incoherent, but it had still been an effort. That counted, right? He would try harder, maybe, as soon as he had his first cuppa. Maybe.

Mycroft’s ‘morning after’ hadn’t been much more dignified. He’d woken up sticky and uncomfortable with the baby on his bladder and his arse smarting a little bit. Greg was right there, snoozing lightly and suddenly the magnitude of what had just happened hit him. He’d gotten incredibly randy and he and Greg had shagged. Thoroughly.

The Omega had then decided he felt entirely too uncomfortable, both physically and otherwise, and had gone off to the restroom as fast as he could, taking the sheet with him. He had then proceeded to spend an extra long amount of time in the bathroom, not coming out until Greg had gone on his way.

The next day, it was still fresh in his mind but not so much that it left him utterly red faced and flustered as it might if they had tried to talk about it the day before. In fact, he’d taken the time to analyse what had happened in his mind, because, he really did need to think about this. Mainly if he wanted it to happen again or not. It wasn’t like he hadn’t enjoyed it, quite the opposite in fact. It had just been so spur of the moment, when nothing had been discussed beforehand, that he personally had found to make things awkward. He was sure Greg had his own reasons. In fact…

Mycroft discreetly glanced up at the DI when the man came in after spending a rather extensive period of time in the loo. Greg muttered something that Mycroft could only guess was some variant of ‘good morning’ and went about fixing his tea. The elder Holmes smirked, still buried in his papers.

“So, I’m guessing you’ve had the tattoo for a while then?” He asked, trying not to look too amused when he asked.

Greg would always be convinced that Mycroft timed that little bomb precisely as Greg was pouring hot water into his cup. He went rigid all over, causing the water to slosh over his hand. “Son of a!” He quickly set the kettle down then turned to glare at Mycroft until it hit him exactly what Mycroft meant and he went red instead.

Every man had their insecurities. His came in the form of a rather large tattoo on his back from his wild youth. Once it had been something to be admired, in his opinion, now it was so roughed up from bullet wounds and scrapes and other little trophies from his job that he was admittedly a tad embarrassed by it. That and the tattoo being a tribal version of wings. That made a man of his age a wee bit insecure.

“Uh, saw that, did you?” Greg winced at himself and quickly turned around to run cold water on his scalded hand. Well, he was certainly awake, that was for sure. Awake and blushing like a damn teenager. But of all the things for Mycroft to bring up after they’d had sex... bloody sadist.

Once his hand was as good as it was going to get, luckily just a little red, he ran his right through his hair, scuffing it up worse than normal bed head. “I was young and stupid and not entirely sober. And uh, not in the drunk sense either,” he muttered while trying the whole ‘making tea’ thing again.

Yes, he’d seen it, but he hadn’t wanted to bring it up at the time. Now he was a bit curious though. Though, he doubted he was going to get much else out of Greg about it. You usually didn’t get many details about something when the excuse was ‘it was something stupid I did in my youth while stoned.’ Mycroft sighed.

“Rather hard to miss when you were bent over like that.” Was his only comment on the matter before he took a sip of his herbal tea and returned to the news. His empty plate from breakfast was at one side, seeing as Greg had taken long enough in the bathroom for him to finish it. Eventually he just sighed again and put the paper down, giving Greg a flat look.

“Are you all right? I didn’t think you’d actually end up hurting yourself over that.” He told him, raising an eyebrow. They were obviously going to need to talk about what had happened yesterday at some point, but admittedly, Mycroft actually wasn’t sure where to start.

Greg leaned against the counter with his remade cuppa then glanced down at his hand. He felt like he could control the conversation here, either step into the obviously needed talk, or divert. He chose the cowards way and gave Mycroft a bashful crooked smile.

“Yeah well, when you surprise a man!” He shook his hand and took a sip of his tea. Definitely needed cream. “I know you have your... things. About your body. That tat’s mine. Like I said, I was young and stupid. Ran with the punk crowd, though I’m sure you knew about that. Well, me mates and I were in a mood for something a bit more adventurous than riding the bikes around and someone suggested getting tattoos. So we did only I kind of diverged from the norm,” he said dryly.

The wings had been a personal thing. Everyone chose naked girls or something of that sort, risqué inks that would get a reaction. “I had been thinking about joining the force for a while so I didn’t want anything that would have shown so I saw the design and went for it. Looked a lot better when my back wasn’t so tattered.” There was another reason why he didn’t much like people seeing it, but he got over the main point, he thought. Better than addressing the white elephant in the room at any rate.

Mycroft blinked at him as he listened, carefully sipping his tea. He found that it actually wasn’t all that difficult to imagine Greg decked out in leather, his hair spiked as he rode a motor bike around town. At least, imagining Greg younger that is. Greg now was.. well.. a bit different. Still snarky and a little immature at times, but mature in a way too. He was a cop; he protected the people and tried to make life safe for others. He was a kind man and a good person and soon, he was going to be a father.

“It didn’t look all that bad to me, but perhaps it was the angle.” He replied carefully, sipping his tea again. “We all did stupid things in our youth…” The Omega paused, a slight smirk on his face. “Myself included.” With that, Mycroft downed the rest of his tea before looking back up at the Alpha, his gaze becoming stern.

“Now, I know you’re avoiding it, but we do need to talk about this. I initiated what happened yesterday, so I’ll take responsibility for that encounter. Though, I think perhaps it wasn’t wise of me to start such things without discussing it first. I realise it was rather sudden, but hormones can do things to a man, and, admittedly, I should have been able to control myself.” He paused; sighing as he carefully stood and took his plate and cup to the sink. “Though… I wouldn’t call in a negative experience. What you want to make of it is up to you."

Greg's shoulders sagged when Mycroft addressed the elephant. He had been far more willing to talk about their misspent youths than what Mycroft obviously thought of as a mistake. The bitter tea was fine by itself, he decided, and tipped the rest of his mug back to give himself a moment.

He didn't know whether to be resigned or angry. What did Mycroft want, to draw out a contract for things like sex or even a hug? Was that what he did in the past, plan out everything to the finest detail? As Greg thought about it, Mycroft probably did. It must ruffle those posh feathers when Greg seemed to have been a wrench in his plans, twice.

"What I make of it was two randy men who been ignoring a mutual attraction for four months finally having sex," he said with an unkind leer. He dropped the cup down on the counter to approach the table, dropping his palms down on the top to stare down at Mycroft. His anger had won over. He should just let the matter drop, he knew he should, but he was sick and tired of being used and people not having the bollocks to at least admit it.

"Look, blame it on hormones all you want, but you weren't in heat, you still had some wits about you yesterday. Okay, so maybe it was the hormones that made you randy, I get that, but they didn't make you want _me_." Growling in the face of the British Government was likely not the best idea, but he wasn't letting Mycroft lie to himself. Not about them. He knew there was something there between them, more than hormones and impulses. It couldn't just be one sided.

Mycroft sighed at Greg’s little outburst, searching the man’s eyes. He really had no idea did he? He had no idea how much Mycroft trusted him, how attractive he found him, how much he admired certain aspects about him. But the thing was, Mycroft had no idea what to make of those things. To make of the things he _couldn’t_ describe. And he didn’t know how much of it was caused by the hormones. Sighing again, he levelled their eyes, keeping the contact solid.

“You want the truth, Gregory? The truth is I’m attracted to you and always have been ever since I met you. When my heat came along and the chance came to have you as the father of my child, I took it, because I know for a fact that you will always be more attractive than myself and I wanted to at least give my child that. As for the last four months, I have come to trust you more than I’ve ever trusted anyone, and you’ve gained my respect. I’m proud to call you the father of my child. What does any of that mean? I haven’t the slightest idea. I don’t know if it’s the hormones or if it’s even the basis for more than a formal relationship, because quite frankly, I’m rather inexperienced on the subject. You want the truth, what’s going through my head about all of this, there you have it. I hope I’ve laid it out well enough for you. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to go get dressed. Anthea can take me in.”

On that note, Mycroft hobbled towards his room to do exactly that. None of his suits would fit, he realised, since he hadn’t had time to get anything tailored, which didn’t improve his mood. He’d manage though. Greg could sit there and stew about what he’d just said all day for he cared. He just needed to get to work and focus on something else.

Greg reeled at Mycroft’s words, remaining where he was, stunned into silence, as Mycroft flat out left him like the imperial arsehole he could be. Christ on a bloody crutch, what was seriously wrong with the Holmes’ brothers? Had they been raised by a Cyberman or something? It would certainly explain why a man of Mycroft’s age couldn’t figure out a simple thing called emotions. But no, he had to be all controlled and logical, disregarding messy things like feelings while Greg was left in the dust. Everything had to be in its right order, so where the bloody hell did that leave Greg?

He half debated just leaving. Grabbing his crap that he had shoved into a closet and leave. But Mycroft wouldn’t be out of the cast for another week and some change and just the other day Greg had prevented him from falling flat on his stomach tripping over a threshold. The fact still remained that Mycroft needed him, and as the father of their child, Greg couldn’t just leave.

He still needed to get things done anyways, being honoured bound to more than just Mycroft. He was honour bound to their daughter. It might make for an awkward and rough week, or him being an idiot and just let Mycroft have his bloody way.

Whatever, he was used to life using him as a personal toilet. He should have known after his mess with Susan that the next person he fell for wouldn’t give him any more an inch than she had. With that in mind, he snatched a piece of toast from the counter then holed himself up in the nursery until Mycroft left. He needed to do some planning anyways. The half-finished nursery was going to get a redo.

\--

The following week was much colder than the week before had been. It was as though all their progress leading up to them having sex had vanished and they were as cold and aloof as they had been when Greg had first found out Mycroft was pregnant, maybe even less than that from what Mycroft could tell. They avoided each other; Mycroft busying himself with his work, always coming home to Greg being closed up in the nursery doing God knows what. But, admittedly, he was still there when the elder Holmes was up and about, keeping an eye and making sure the pregnant Omega didn’t fall.

Mycroft wasn’t exactly sure why Greg was acting the way he was. True, Mycroft had been a bit sharp about telling the DI what he was experiencing, but to him, he’d laid out his mind and a bit of his heart on the table, telling Greg he trusted and respected him but he had no clue what to make of it. He’d actually hoped the man would be there to say something after it all, tell him he understood in that gruff way he did and that he’d help the Omega figure it out. Yet, he hadn’t been. Greg had turned away. Mycroft would never admit it, but it made his chest ache and his heart heavy.

Maybe Greg wasn’t who he thought he was. Maybe he’d been right. Caring is not an advantage.

With encounters here and there, they barely spoke, but time passed anyway and the day that Mycroft’s cast would be removed was fast approaching. Mycroft tried not to think about it. With Greg withdrawn and Mycroft cool and distant, it seemed they may part on less than amicable terms. It would be a little disappointing but thus was life.

Greg had given Mycroft his space, getting the feeling after their ‘talk’ that it had been more than demanded of. He had hoped that after a day or two of letting things cool down that they would get back to their routine, but Mycroft had closed himself off like Greg was nothing but an interloper. He no longer hinted at back pain, didn’t give himself away one iota. Greg just tried to take it with grace and concentrate on the nursery when he wasn’t at work. If Mycroft wanted to wrap himself in ice again, fine. Greg wouldn’t be needed much longer anyways.

So he threw himself at his little project. When Mycroft wasn’t home and he didn’t have to be in until late he would bust out the paint or make shopping trips. He had to change up the whole room to make it as different from the dream as possible. So that meant repainting the walls to teddy bears and ducks, possibly buy out the local toy shops of their soft toys, teddy bears suddenly becoming the theme of the nursery.

It was a lot of work, sure, but he day before Mycroft’s cast came off he had finished painting the last wall and now all he had to do was wait for the paint to dry before he could set up the shelf with the bears that had been stuffed in the closet for the time being. And that he could do within minutes so he was feeling pretty good about himself by the time he left the room to get out of the paint fumes. Things might be crap between him and Mycroft, but at least he felt like he was doing right by his little girl.

Though as his luck would prove he had stepped out, covered in light blue and yellow paint, denims ruined, to find Mycroft had just got home. He had managed to do the work all without getting caught, but that day he had no such luck. No matter, he was flushed with exertion, filled with self-satisfaction, and proud of a job well done. Instead of embarrassment, he lifted his head in pride and grinned at Mycroft ‘cause dammit, he had done something right. He wouldn’t let their failure ruin that.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m bloody magic. I finished the nursery.”

Mycroft wasn’t about to admit it out loud, but he was having an utterly shit day. It was hot out, his tailor had failed to meet with him for the second time so he was still stuck without a waistcoat, his back was trying to brutally murder him and the baby was making a sport of seeing how many organs she could kick in a day and nothing would calm her. Mycroft was almost literally about to strangle the next person to walk through his door.

The only thing he had to look forward to was getting his cast off tomorrow. Then he could finally walk like a normal person. Actually, no. The man grit his teeth. He knew for a fact that he’d developed a rather prominent waddle, though one couldn’t tell with the way he walked with the cast. Once the cast was off, he’d still be walking like a penguin until the baby was born. No, today just wasn’t his day. At all. Everyone around him was suddenly terrified of him again during the past week just when they’d gotten used to him being in a rather constant good mood.

So, when he’d gotten home and the first thing he’d seen was Greg looking smug, he almost just went up and clocked the man. He didn’t though, stopping to actually look at him and listen to what the Alpha had said. The ginger’s eyes widened when he finally registered Greg’s words.

“You can’t be serious.” Mycroft hobbled as quickly as he could past Greg to the nursery door and pushed it open, taking in the room. And for a single moment, he seemed to soften. “Oh…” Was all he said, unsure what else to say. It was… quite frankly it was perfect and Mycroft found himself touched in spite of it all.

Greg blew air at his nose to quell his frustration at Mycroft’s disbelief. Mycroft would see all of his hard work and be amazed, he was sure of it. So he had stepped aside to let Mycroft in and... he really shouldn’t have expected more. But ‘Oh.’ That was all he was going to get? That had been a two week job at least and he had done it in seven days. He deserved a little bit more than an ‘Oh.’

“Well the shelf’s not up yet but the paint has to dry. I can do that before...” Greg licked his lips, not quite willing to finish that sentence yet. He meant before he left, which would either be tomorrow night or the morning after, but he was certain that Mycroft caught his drift.

“Cause look.” Sliding his hand over the small of Mycroft’s back so he could squeeze in without bumping into anything, he then walked to the closet and threw the door open. His brown eyes met dozens of pairs of coal black, all beady and looking up at him. Yeah, he went overboard.

“I figure she’ll never want for another teddy in her life.” He laughed awkwardly and stepped back to show the army of bears in all different shapes and sizes. “I think some of ‘em might talk. Haven’t really tested that out yet. But that way she can pick and choose her favourites. What little girl doesn’t like teddy bears, right?”

He tried for nonchalance, but it was hard to remain excited or neutral in the face of Mycroft. That whole week of... of perfection had shattered all because Mycroft had lost himself to his own humanity and Greg had to suffer the price. It wasn’t fair, it bloody wasn’t, but it wasn’t like he would ever come to understand Holmes.

Mycroft looked around the room carefully, surveying every part of it, noticing how different it was from the original layout. He couldn’t help but wonder why that was, but he didn’t question it. It was fine, and he really liked it, though he couldn’t help but feel that it was missing something. Shrugging that to the side for a moment, he was about to go in further when Greg slid passed him, hand on his back for a fleeting moment. Mycroft took a deep breath before looking at the bear filled closet.

Let it never be said that Mycroft didn’t like teddy bears. He was fine with them, really. Just the fact that there were so many of them in one place may freak him out a little. He didn’t let that show though. He would get them properly dispersed around the room and then it would be fine. Greg was right, their daughter would never be without something soft to cuddle and hug.

But, as he walked he still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. Mycroft glanced at Greg. “It’s perfect… thank you.. Just…” He murmured, turning towards the man as he smoothed a hand over his belly. It really was something, how big he was getting, encroaching on his seventh month in only a few weeks. He glanced around the room once more, his expression lightening as he realised what was needed. “It needs something. Something rather important to me actually. It’s in the back storage. I can hardly believe I forgot it. Would it.. Would it be too much trouble to fetch it for me?” He asked carefully. “It’s… well, it’s a rocking chair and it’s got a bit of history behind it. So..” Mycroft actually looked a little uneasy. Things had been tense between them and the last thing he wanted to do was make Greg think that he hadn’t done a good enough job with the room. Because he had.

As much as Greg wanted to be exasperated, the ideal of a rocker was perfect. No, it really was. The room had everything from changing tables to a little drawer full of tiny clothes and blankets and diapers. It had the crib and a small little table that she wouldn’t be able to use for a while but he hadn’t been able to resist. But it didn’t have a rocker. And as much as he was disappointed by Mycroft’s continued lack of enthusiasm, Greg perked up with excitement.

“Yeah! You know what, you’re right! God I can’t believe I forgot that.” Without even thinking properly he placed his hand over the growing bulge in a silent apology for having forgotten something important. But that was what made them so good together; Mycroft saw the things he didn’t. They fit so well but...

Suddenly filled with self-consciousness, he peeled his hand away and rubbed the back of his neck. It wasn’t until he felt the tacky paint that he realized his hadn’t washed his hands properly. His eyes immediately darted down to the blue half hand print on Mycroft’s shirt, knowing there would be a full on smear on his back. With a quick, flashing smile, he was out the door before Mycroft could notice and beat him with a teddy.

“Shouldn’t take me but a minute!”

Mycroft frowned at the speed Greg left the room. He hadn’t really minded the touching that much, he understood the sentiment after all so why- Something blue on stark white caught his eye and he glanced down. Oh, for the love of- Mycroft then proceeded to glare at the blue handprint on his nice white shirt as though it would make it disappear. He wasn’t having much luck with that.

Grumbling to himself, he went into his room to change out of the ruined clothing and into something more casual. Greg could manage the clunky, oak rocker on his own. It was heavy, that much Mycroft knew all too well. One time he’d dropped it on his foot. Luckily he hadn’t broken anything. Actually, maybe he should have warned Greg about that. Oh well.

As he was undressing, the baby rolled before kicking, this time directly to the front. Mycroft found himself a little in awe when he found he could actually _see_ the movement. He hadn’t really paid attention before… So that’s what Greg had been talking about all those months ago. Okay, so admittedly, that was a little weird as it was interesting. He’d probably get used to it soon enough.

Once dressed, he went back out, waiting by the nursery door to see just how much trouble Greg was having with the bulky wooden chair. It was funny, but he did genuinely want it in the nursery as well. That rocker… well, it had some memories and it was important to him and he wanted it in his child’s life.

When Greg thought rocker, he thought of those small, wooden things that shouldn’t weigh more than one stone. Two tops. But what he found, practically at the back of everything too, had to be made out of iron it was so bloody heavy. And huge. The damn thing could handle his and Mycroft’s weight combined. It probably weighed more than the damn recliner in his own flat and that had been a bitch to get up the stairs.

He wasn’t having any better luck getting the ancient damn thing inside the townhouse and through the bloody hallway. He almost regretted having washed his hands first to leave some mark on the thing that wasn’t possibly blood for all he scraped his hands against walls and door frames. Not to mention what dragging the dark wood chair was doing to his back.

“What the hell is this thing made out of anyways? And you could have warned me that I had to carry a behemoth into the bloody house! Seriously! This is not what I think of as rockers!” His complaining was punctuated with a sharp yell when the sharp edge of the blade, or that was what he was calling it, jabbed into his leg.

He made sure to let the whole neighbourhood know just what he thought of the thing as he finally pushed it through the door frame to the nursery and all but dropped it into the empty space where he imagined Mycroft had wanted it. If he was wrong, Mycroft could deal. Greg was sore, panting, sweaty, and felt like he had just lost to a chair.

Admittedly though, it was a beautiful thing. It still looked like it had its original varnish and wasn’t terribly beat up despite looking so old. He got why he had been a beast, it was likely made of oak or something as sturdy and was one fine piece of craftsmanship. It had still been a bitch to move, but it went well with the other furnishing and did give the nursery exactly what it needed.

Mycroft hobbled in after him a few minutes later, a dusting cloth in hand. He gave the chair a stern look, his hand on his hips before giving it a short nod before approaching it. The Omega then proceeded to carefully rid the old rocker of any dust it might have collected over the years. It was well taken care of, carefully preserved to keep its grand old look even after many years of use. Once satisfied that it was free of dust, the man set the cloth to the side and sat down in it with a short breath of air. It was then Mycroft glanced up at Greg and offered him a small smile.

“She’s a grand old girl, isn’t she?” He said softly, rubbing the armrests fondly. “And she’s seen a lot. My mother was rocked in this chair. Sherlock and I were too, though by nannies instead of Mummy…” There was wistful look in his eyes for a moment before he glanced around the room once more, his lips quirking upwards.

“It really is perfect though. You’ve done amazingly in such a short period of time and I thank you for it.” He murmured, glancing back at Greg before settling his hands on his stomach. “I know in my condition I never would have been able to finish it myself.” Mycroft didn’t know what else to say. There were so many things he wanted to say, but wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

_Stay. Please. I want you here. I want you here for our daughter. For me. I may even want you in my life, I just don’t know yet. I needed a chance and you didn’t give it to me._

_You deserve better than all I’ve said and done to you though._

_I’m sorry._

_Don’t leave._

“Thank you, Gregory.”

\---

After the big reveal of the nursery things almost became normal again. Greg had been bowled over by Mycroft’s gratitude, but if there had been a mending moment to be had, he had not taken the opportunity. Mycroft had seemed vulnerable and the last Greg had wanted was to seem like he was manipulating the man’s fragile emotions/ hormones. Whatever Mycroft wanted to call them. Either way, that ship had sailed.

That was what was on Greg’s mind as he lifted the last bag onto his shoulders. He had accumulated quite a bit of stuff over the past six weeks, mostly from his flat but Mycroft had influenced him a little in a new cardigan and some books. That much he could say. And it hadn’t been a bad six weeks, comfortable for the most part, fantastic near the end. Only the last week had been rough. So overall, it was damn tough to leave.

But he turned around and faced Mycroft for the last time as housemates. Outside of the big bulging belly and lack of waist coat, Mycroft finally looked like himself now that the cast was gone, with it the last excuse that Greg had for sticking around. They had promised to resume their café meets and Greg would still be there for appointments, but he knew it wouldn’t be the same. Not for him.

“I know you’re better ‘n all, but you let me know if you need me, yeah? Shopping runs, midnight peanut butter cravings,” he couldn’t help but tease a bit just for the hope of seeing Mycroft blush. “But I mean it. You just let me know.”

It was amazing how calm he could sound, casual even, while his heart was up in his throat. All Mycroft had to do was ask for him to stay and he would. God he would. But if the man needed his space and his order back and silence, Greg definitely was not a quiet sort of person then Greg would give that to him too. Hell, he didn’t know what he wouldn’t give the man if he would just ask for it.

Getting the cast off had been annoying. The technician of the mini-saw hadn’t been wearing a scent masker and it had driven Mycroft insane. Once it was off though, he was given a final once over by the doctor before being told he was in the clear, the slight swelling in his ankles he was experiencing was apparently normal during pregnancy. It had taken a few moments for him to get used to standing on his own two feet, but really it was a relief to have the damn thing off. Even if he did waddle.

Now though, he almost wished he could still have it on. Something to delay Greg’s departure. But, no that wasn’t the case. The Alpha had gotten his things together and was about out the door. Mycroft would see him at his next appointment, or at the next meeting in two weeks, whichever came first. He sighed and offered the man a tiny smile when he spoke, his cheeks tinting slightly.

“I’ll be sure to let you know if there’s anything I need, Gregory.” He replied, straightening his lapels, even though they were already straight. He met Greg’s eyes, opening his mouth to say something, anything, to convince the man to stay, but it just wouldn’t come. Greg probably needed some time away and he was going to honour that. “I’ll be sure to update you should anything come up.” He said instead, nodding inwardly.

 It was for the best. He didn’t even know if he truly wanted Greg or if it was just the hormones. It would be best not to risk it should it be the later. Within, their daughter kicked, as if she knew her father was leaving. “I’ll text you when the next appointment comes up. Until then?”

“Until then,” Greg said with a smile that he didn’t quite feel as he grasped Mycroft’s shoulder, unintentionally wrapping his fingers over the faded mark his bite had left just over a week ago. He didn’t move right away though, instead he met Mycroft’s piercing grey gaze and wished he could be as brave as he had been at the kitchen a week ago. Then again, maybe it had been him standing up for himself that had shattered their peace. So he didn’t say anything. Just gave Mycroft a pat on the shoulder and tore himself away before he lost it.

\---

The drive back to his miserable flat had been filled with roaring classic rock and him just trying not to think. But as soon as he had stepped inside the stale air of the dusty place, the weight of the situation crashed into him with the threat to crush him into dust.

Nothing felt right. His mild dislike for the tiny flat immediately turned to pure loathing. It wasn’t home, it didn’t smell like home. It smelled wrong and carried only the faint trace of his scent. He should be basking in it, in having his space back and his things, his territory. But he hated it. Absolutely hated it.

He gave the flat a look of utter disgust and simply dropped his bags onto the floor. Already his back was aching just thinking about sleeping in that crap bed, but he would have to bloody deal, wouldn’t he. It wasn’t like he would need to stay in it that often.

He needed to turn all of his focus on his case and catch that bastard. But just thinking about the case didn’t make him feel any better about having left Mycroft. Now he was itchy to get back if just to protect Mycroft from the faceless threat. He almost turned around right there and marched himself back to the townhouse. He had his hand on the knob to reopen the door when he came back to his senses. Mycroft was fine. He didn’t need Greg. Not anymore.

Despair was just as heavy as loathing when it washed over him. Suddenly exhausted, he picked up his bags, having grabbed only the one with his clothes, then forcing himself to his room. He needed a shower and sleep for the press conference in the morning then it was straight to his desk. At least he could plan on getting drunk the following night and oh he planned on it. Probably with company.

Mycroft had watched Greg go, never saying a word to stop him before turning back inside and closing the door. He’d then stopped and surveyed the flat, finding it was already missing something. Someone. Sighing, he smoothed his hands over his stomach as the baby continued to kick beneath his palms.

“I suppose it’s just you and me now, isn’t it?” He said quietly, rubbing his thumb over where his daughter was kicking the hardest. She didn’t really calm down, but it at least did something to sooth the pounding she was giving him from within. No, she definitely wasn’t happy and Mycroft didn’t blame her.

Sighing, he glanced at the stairs and decided he would still avoid them when possible. Leaving his bedroom where it was would be easier on him and you couldn’t hold it against him to still be a bit wary around staircases. The fact that his own bedroom was still pungent with Greg’s scent, as was the whole flat, had nothing to do with it. At least, that’s what he told himself.

Mycroft Holmes was not heartbroken. He had no reason to be. He and Greg hadn’t been a couple. They’d had sex in a moment of hormones and passion, they weren’t together. So Mycroft didn’t really understand what he was feeling. He wasn’t heartbroken. But that didn’t explain why it felt like it. Sighing, Mycroft retreated to his bedroom. He had some paperwork to do and all in all, today had been exhausting.

The interior of the pub was quite possibly the most beautiful thing Greg had seen in a while. He dragged himself inside, the crowd a small one on a weekday. Though the inviting grow and sweet smell of hops wasn’t enough to lift the weight of his horrible day. He had high hopes that lots of lager would do the trick though.

Another sight for sore eyes came in the form of John Watson, sitting at the bar with his head tilted up to watch a game. Greg was so worn down that he didn’t even know who was playing, which as an avid fan, was embarrassing. But he had been busy the past week and didn’t much want to linger on that thought. With a shake of his weary head, he beelined for John, clasping him on the shoulder as he sat down beside him.

But as soon as Greg touched him, he withdrew his hand with an apologetic smile, though likely more a grimace. John’s smell was sharper that night and the Alpha pheromones rose Greg’s hackles. Nothing new though, he had been a mess all day when it came to scents. No one smelled right and Alphas in particular had the talent of pissing him off just by their smell alone.

He had barely made it through the circus of a press conference without wanting to murder someone then near lost it on a case when the perp had been a large, nasty Alpha with a grudge against cops. Despite the man’s size though, Greg had not been in the mood to get punched at and had slammed the bastard into a wall. It had made him feel a little better, oddly, but so did the half pack of cigarettes that he had between putting the arsehole in custody and meeting John.

“Hey. Long day. Don’t ask,” he said when John eyed his rumpled appearance then immediately ordered a pint. John lifted his beer at him in a mock toast.

“No, I completely understand. Trust me, I am all for getting pissed and not talking,” John said with a strained smile. Greg got over himself and gave John a long look. He was hiding it well, but he looked like life was just as crap as Greg’s was. It was in his eyes, the weight of just too much. Greg gave an understanding nod and picked up his pint instead of commenting. The hardness in John’s eyes softened a bit, not much, but it was something.

Mycroft couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in the dark, gritting his teeth as he tried to rub soothing circles on his belly. The baby had started kicking up a storm about an hour ago, just before he’d been able to drift off and he hadn’t been able to calm her since. He took a few deep breaths and continued to rub, but finally just gave up and turned the lights on.

So, his little girl was unhappy, he himself rather bereft. They were quite the pair. Sighing, the man carefully got out of bed, one hand supporting his back. Maybe some soothing herbal tea would help. Ever wary, the Omega waddled (as much as he hated the word, it was the only thing that fit his gait) into the kitchen.

After realising he’d filled the kettle for two, he just gave up. Tea wasn’t going to help, not in his state of mind. He just needed to sit down and think. Shuffling into the den, he sat heavily on the sofa, his eyes widening when Greg’s scent rose up from in. Mycroft was about to get up and move as quickly as he could away from in when something fabric caught on his foot. Tugging it out from under the sofa, Mycroft unfolded it and almost wished he hadn’t. It was one of Greg’s shirts, his scent still strong on it.

Before he could stop himself, Mycroft had all but buried his nose in the garment and inhaled deeply. Holding back a flux of emotions he wasn’t prepared to deal with, Mycroft closed his eyes and simply lost himself in the scent. Not long after, he drew his legs up and got comfortable on the cushions, closing his eyes. The Omega drifted off not ten minutes later, Greg’s shirt clutched close.

Greg finally managed to unlock the door to the miserable flat after his key had finally decided to work. Bloody thing. Not that he wanted to be in the flat, and the key apparently shared the same sentiment, but it was the only place he had left. He dropped his head against the door as he turned the knob. He had enough miserable thoughts rolling in his head, he hadn’t needed that one too. But drinking with John hadn’t made him feel much better, even after he went and spilled his guts over Mycroft. Like how he missed him and missed being able to feel his daughter but John was just miserable, if not was suffering worse news than Greg the poor sod.

Greg rolled his head against the wood in an approximation of a shake then pushed inside. Really though, John and Sherlock, poor sods. At least Greg knew enough to win the office pool, but still. Not like it mattered what he knew...

A familiar scent wrapped around his own wafted to his nose. Greg’s head snapped up when he recognized the second scent, his blood racing through his veins and a deep ache of longing and hope blooming in his chest. He could smell Myc, right there in his flat and it washed every miserable feeling away.

“Myc?” He hurried into the foyer to find Mycroft, hope thick and sweet in the back of his throat. So naturally his foot caught on something by the door, sending him flat onto the floor with a yelp. It felt like the whole world had spun on its axis, making him dizzy as all fuck. He had to get up though before Mycroft saw him but then he went completely still. Down on the floor the smell was even stronger. What was Mycroft doing on the bloody floor? Had he fallen? Greg scrambled onto his hands and knees, feeling a dull ache originating from his face but ignoring it. He had to find Mycroft.

And oh. When he smacked his face against one of the bags he had left by the door he realized where the smell was coming from. It was faint, now that he thought about it, not as strong as it should be, because it was coming off his stuff. Which had spent six weeks at Mycroft’s. All those miserable feelings came back in a rush, making his already foggy brain spin. His stomach lurched, threatening to bring up all six pints, so Greg simply kicked the door closed and curled around the bags on the floor.

If he stood up he would be sick anyways and the floor was just fine for a little rest. Not that the bags had anything to do with him staying on the floor. Just because it smelled of Mycroft who Greg was missing so bloody fiercely it hurt. Damn emotionally constipated Holmes anyways. Damn his rotten luck. Damn Mycroft for not asking him to stay.

After spending that night on the couch, Mycroft had started hoarding anything with Greg’s scent on it. He’d read that if the father of the child was absent, that the Omega would likely do such things for comfort and he really, really couldn’t help it. Greg’s scent was comforting. Mycroft was embarrassed to admit that he slept with the shirt, not that he actually _would_ admit that. He’d found other things that vaguely smelled of Greg. Whenever home he would spend a great amount of time curled up on the sofa, talking to their child in soft, hushed tones. It was hard, as is every time he found the scent somewhere, he was reminded of Greg, but at the same time he was comforted by it.

He felt pathetic, like that Omega they’d seen at the café that one day. He was turning into one of those soft, miserable things and he hated it, pining for “his” Alpha like he was. That was part of what kept him away from the man. He wasn’t going to turn into _that_ , not after all he’d worked for. He wasn’t going to let biology run his life. He’d get over this. Eventually. He just needed some time.

The next week was hell. He didn’t want to be around anyone and was snappish towards those he had to be around, even if their scent was masked. He didn’t want anyone touching him or talking to him or even being near him. His work was suffering, with his hackles raised as they were. He couldn’t go back to his favourite café right now, because he’d instantly think of Greg. At home, he was despondent, not wanting to do more than just curl up and sleep or just sit and read. And that’s all he really could do anyhow. The paperwork was slowly trickling off, it seemed everyone got the message that he wasn’t to be bothered and little came his way, seemingly with the fear of how he’d react to it.

But Mycroft fought it. He’d get over this. The hormones from the pregnancy were just affecting him as they would any Omega. Once the baby was born he could get on with life. There was one thing for sure. He was never doing this again, not with this arrangement. There was no way in hell he could ask Greg for another child with their formal relationship like it was and it wasn’t like he was going to go to another donor. It just felt wrong. No, one child was enough. They would get passed all this and work as co-parents to raise their child right. She just had to be born fist and then things would get better.

Greg’s fingers clenched into the starch fabric of the crisp, white shirt, the sun beating down on his neck. The breath that beat against his face was hot, humid, and rank while his was heavy with cigarette smoke. Green eyes met brown, Greg having to stare up at the taller, typical Alpha, and he had thick, meaty hands tearing into his blazer. All of that were just tiny flecks of details though because the only thing on Greg’s mind was controlling himself enough to not rip the fucking Alpha’s throat out.

Higher ups had called in a specialist, and it took the man a whopping one hour to piss Greg off to the point that he had the green eyed bastard up against the wall at the latest crime scene, thinking fond thoughts in the vicinity of teeth and throats. It wasn’t like anyone would miss the man. Nathaniel Ashburn had stomped onto his crime scene dripping with arrogance that rivalled Sherlock’s and started to abuse everyone on the scene.

The latest victim had been an older woman, compared to the other victims, in her forties and by the smell, five months along. She had never made it into her little house, instead having collapsed right on the doorstep. Greg had almost had a coronary when he walked onto the scene and saw a body kit up in a professional suit with auburn hair; face down on the front step. Once he really got a look at it, after his heart had made a bid for his throat, the resemblance to Mycroft had stopped at the colour of their hair. Regardless, it had been a hit to his nerves and made him extra moody and doubly unable to handle anyone’s shite. So naturally that was when the cosmos threw Ashburn at him.

And he had tried to take it with grace, he really had. Let the man mock him and his team snarl at John and mock the man for his size. Ashburn had even made a jab about the relative size of Alpha cocks and the gender of their children. (Apparently larger men had boys. Greg didn’t give a toss, he knew he was perfectly equipped in that department.) But what had finally set Greg off to attack a consultant at the scene was when Ashburn had attacked Sherlock for being an Omega.

“You lot should have called me in sooner. No wonder you’re all so out of sorts, following the misguided attempts of an Omega. Oh you may try and strut the strut, sweet thing, but your place should be in bed, ready to pop, not playing with the big boys. Your Alpha is clearly not man enough for the job. Maybe you should consider looking for a real man.”

While the comment had been lewd and way out of line, it had been Sherlock and John’s expressions that had turned Greg murderous. John looked ready to kill the guy, well and truly torture him, but Sherlock’s face... Sherlock wasn’t snide or about to tear the man apart with his mind, no Sherlock had looked gutted.

What really made his hackles rise though was that Ashburn was grinning down at him, even though he was the one pressed against a wall. Smug and insufferable and Greg really wanted to punch the bastard because he knew that Ashburn was not going to drop this.

“Oh what’s this, Lestrade? Sticking up for the pretty Omega? I bet you want that piece of arse too, yeah? Hoping this one will forget how pathetic you are?” Greg’s hands twitched around the lapels of Ashburn’s shirt.

“Shut the fuck up, Ashburn. Listen here, I am not going to stand for this...”

“I’ve heard, you know. How you got an Omega pregnant but he won’t let you bond. Honestly, either he’s got a bigger dick or knows what a poor excuse for an Alpha you are. I’d be surprised if he keeps the pup and doesn’t just toss it into a bin,” Ashford hissed with a malicious smirk and Greg lost it. He hauled back his fist knowing full well that he would be getting in deep shite for punching a man from the Home Office, but really didn’t care.

Before he could swing though, cool, long fingers wrapped around his fist. His eyes snapped to Sherlock’s bright, ice blue gaze, searching for why he would stop Greg. Sherlock’s eyes were meaningful, obviously trying to convey something, but Greg was neither John or Mycroft, silent conversations with the sleuth wasn’t his thing. Either way though, he let go of Ashburn and pulled away, feeling oddly defeated. His shoulders jerked when Ashburn started laughing.

“You really are pathetic, Lestrade! It’s no wonder!” Ashburn’s words were cut off when Sherlock hauled back and slugged him right on the mouth, the impact having enough force to slam the insufferable git’s head into the wall with an indignant yelp. The scent of blood bloomed in the air before it was apparent that Ashburn’s nose was bleeding. It looked broken. Greg felt his day lightening up a bit.

“Apologies detective inspector,” Sherlock said in that posh manner of his while shaking out his fist. “But I am perfectly capable of defending my own honour, thank you.” Greg had to fight off a smile. Instead he re-claimed control over his crime scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks! Watchinginthedark here. Just thought I'd let you guys know things might be slowing down a little bit because as of now, I'm back at school. But fear not! It will be finished. It might just be a bit longer between updates. Cheers!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ..But no storm lasts forever.

After a week of doing very little, Mycroft was growing a little restless. Greg’s scent was slowly fading from the flat, the man’s shirt mostly smelling of Mycroft at this point. And the Omega needed to get out and do something, something to take his mind off the fact that Greg’s scent was fading because the man wasn’t there to renew it. No, it was time to do something. Now that he thought about it, he was overdue for a visit to Barker Street and its inhabitants.

He’d finally gotten some newly tailored clothes, which he donned slowly, annoyed with how it was getting harder to do even the simplest things. He was finally to the point that he could no longer see his own feet while standing. But, all in all, he did look rather smart, wrapped in a new three piece, waistcoat and all. It was amazing how a good tailor could make trousers fit a man seven months into pregnancy while still making them look professional.

After a little careful surveillance, he calculated a time that Sherlock and John would be out, but would return shortly. He had no interest in his brother and his flatmate see him arrive, as 221b was up a flight of stairs and while he knew he could manage stairs again, he’d tried his own just to be sure, he also knew he couldn’t do it anywhere near gracefully.

So, he’d arrived at just the right time, getting through the door with ease before being faced with the many stairs of 221b. Groaning inwardly, he wrestled and struggled up the steps, finally getting to the top of them out of breath. God, if Sherlock had seen that, Mycroft would never hear the end of it. Once he was fully composed, he let himself into the flat and sat down in the most comfortable chair, glancing around.

It was still relatively messy, but, it did look a little cleaner. Mycroft wrinkled his nose a little at the scents of the two that clung to the room, but he wasn’t overly bothered. Strangers tended to bother him more than people he actually knew. Sighing, he ran his hands over his belly once more and waited for his brother and the good doctor to return.

“Of course it was the brother! One look at the woman’s nails attest to such. Either way the case had hardly been of my calibre and thoroughly dull. I swear, the only reason why Lestrade continues to call us in is because I am the closest he is going to get to...” Sherlock’s words cut off abruptly once he reached the landing to 221b, Mycroft scent hitting him like a brick wall.

John, sensing something as well, stiffened then looked up at Sherlock with concern. Sherlock noted in the corner of his eye how John’s left hand instinctively crept to his lower back where his gun was often nestled beneath the hem of his trousers. Sherlock gave him a look that conveyed that there was no threat and watched his flatmate’s muscles slowly relax one by one. Pity, John’s scent had also bloomed with the sudden increase of adrenaline, which held promise, but not one that could be explored.

“It’s appears that we have a visitor,” Sherlock said with an eye roll and watched realisation dawn on John’s face, quickly followed by curiosity.

“Mycroft? What is he doing here? Been awhile since he broke into our flat.” Sherlock merely shrugged and opened the door, indeed revealing Mycroft sitting primly in Sherlock’s chair. From the smell and looks of it he had only been kept for a few minutes. Sherlock flashed him the most insincere smile that he could summon while John made murmurings about tea.

“Mycroft! To what do we owe the pleasure of your esteem presence?” Sherlock asked with false cheer, his tone dripping with displeasure. He then quickly abandoned all decorum by swooping up his violin and throwing himself onto the sofa. The scabbing skin over his knuckles stretched with a dull ache as he curled his right hand over the bow.

“Is it really such a crime for a man to want to check up on his little brother?” Mycroft replied, raising an eyebrow as he took in Sherlock’s form. For a moment, his brows furrowed. There was something different about Sherlock that he couldn’t actually suss out and he wasn’t sure if he should be worried about that or not. Letting a soft breath through his nose, he turned his attention back to other Omega’s damaged knuckles.

Sherlock was usually very careful with his hands as he needed them for scientific work, so he’d obviously been in a fight of some sort, most likely involving punching someone hard in the mouth as teeth were the only thing that could cause such lacerations. Odd though, because going after someone in a physical assault with his fists was usually not his brother’s style. No, it wasn’t self-defence either. Punching someone’s face was usually used as a display of dominance, causing mostly superficial damage to humiliate the other party as well as leave them with a painful, visible reminder of being put in their place until they healed. Sherlock sported no other injuries so obviously whoever he’d punched hadn’t fought back or hadn’t had the chance to. Obviously this meant Sherlock had struck someone out of malevolence, perhaps over something they had said or done. And Sherlock had been successful in his show of dominance. Impressive. Mycroft wasn’t surprised.

“And it seems I have good reason to check up on him. Care to share why you seem to have clouted someone in the face? It just seems rather brutish of you. He must have said something particularly nasty.” Mycroft mused, his lips quirking. Anything that got Sherlock’s hackles up enough to punch someone simply out of spite should be interesting. Mycroft’s nose twitched when John came back into the room before Sherlock could answer, tea in hand.

“Right, so I remembered you’re off the caffeine and we still have some of the herbal stuff, so here you are.” He handed Mycroft the cup and saucer which the elder Holmes accepted carefully, watching a little wistfully as Sherlock and John got their black tea. He said nothing of it though. John looked between the two of them and seemed to decide that he’d interrupted something. “So, should I be worried about what I’ve missed or is it something I shouldn’t bother asking about?” Mycroft smirked.

“Nonsense. I was merely asking the reason behind the cuts on my brother’s hand. I’m allowed to be concerned, aren’t I?” With that, he gave Sherlock a pointed look and took a sip of his tea.

Sherlock tuned his violin, being sure to catch a high note that would grate on Mycroft’s nerves. John gave him a sharp look for which he ignored for the moment. “It’s hardly a reason to be concerned, Mycroft. Even a man of his stature and status, I doubt that Ashburn is one to exact revenge on an Omega. It would only serve to make him look weaker.”

Sherlock was certain that the name would not escape Mycroft and thus looked for signs of acknowledgement. When it was given, Sherlock seized on an opportunity and pushed his bow and violin aside as he sat upright, hands clasped between his knees.

“Ashburn is apparently a specialist that was likely called in to cow the media frenzy. Honestly I think...” Sherlock repressed the urge to roll his eyes as John explained who Ashburn was, as if Mycroft needed to be informed, and thus interrupted him. While John would no doubt be absolutely correct, his opinion wasn’t needed.

“Though as much as I enjoyed giving that foul excuse for a man what for, I almost regret not having allowed Lestrade the honour. I don’t think he would have stopped at a mere punch, to be honest. He looked as murderous towards the other Alpha as he did haggard. He was lucky that I had stepped in, actually, Lestrade. He’s already looking on the verge of losing the case if he continues to commit such slights. Frankly, I think the man is losing it,” Sherlock said, eyes alight with mischievous malice. It was plain as day what was breaking the good DI and Sherlock was staring right at the source.

“Not that you would find that information important, would you brother?” His tone wasn’t as goading as he had intended however for Mycroft did not react in the way that Sherlock had expected.

Mycroft listened carefully, not once interrupting. However his eyes widened when Greg’s name came into the conversation and all he could do was look down at the floor when he heard his brother telling him just how badly the father of his child was doing. He couldn’t hide the sadness in his eyes for a single moment.

He would have thought Greg would have moved on, he’d turned Mycroft away easily enough after the elder Holmes had laid everything out. Or had he? Perhaps he’d misunderstood Mycroft’s intentions, thought he’d meant something else. Perhaps Mycroft should have tried to convey what he’d been feeling a little better, been a little more open instead of coldly laying it all out. The pregnant Omega shifted in his chair, schooling his face as he looked back up.

“I didn’t realise he was doing so poorly. I’ll have to speak with him.” He said quietly, trying to tamp down the flush of feelings as this wasn’t the time and place. It just made him want to go back home, no longer wanting to have to deal with his brother and his- Mycroft stopped, looking between the two of them, his eyes narrowing slightly as he carefully scented the air. The scent of a bond was often hard to detect after the first few weeks of it being made, but Mycroft’s nose was currently oversensitive to everything and he couldn’t help but smirk. Who would have thought? A perfect subject change too. “That aside, I obviously haven’t been checking up enough. May I ask how long the two of you have been mates and why it is you haven’t felt the need to tell anyone?”

It was just a little funny how John reacted to that little bomb drop. Maybe Greg was right. Maybe he was a little sadistic in how much amusement he got from watching people react to sudden obtrusive revelations. John was looking between him and Sherlock. Again, Mycroft just smirked.

Sherlock huffed air through his nose, both frustrated by Mycroft’s deduction and the fact that John couldn’t have been more obvious. He nearly sloshed tea over his hands then turned scarlet. Sherlock slumped back on the couch, his fingers curled around his tea cup. His posture easily said, ‘touché’ to Mycroft.

“Last I was aware, my affairs are still none of your business,” Sherlock said tersely then snapped at John. “Would you please sit down, John? You know how I don’t like you just hovering about.” John shot him another look but finally sat beside him on the couch. Truthfully, it was the result that he had intended and slowly he began to relax now that John was closer.

He caught his mistake immediately however by Mycroft’s expression. Sherlock sat up straight and mentally kicked himself for being so obvious. It was pure luck that he hadn’t spilled his tea. Of which he gladly gulped down a third of it and expressed his pleasure of the caffeinated drink just to spite Mycroft. 

“Anyways,” John interrupted pointedly. “I’m not sure if you should talk to Greg or not, Mycroft. Way I understood it; you gave him the brush off. Though he was pretty sloshed at the time.”

Mycroft was pleased with his little deduction being confirmed, but his smirk all but dropped off his face when John spoke. If anything, it strengthened his resolve to talk to Greg. There had obviously been a serious misunderstanding between him and Greg. Greg had thought Mycroft had brushed him off and Mycroft had thought he was laying all his cards out on the table. And now they were both miserable because of it. Mycroft’s gut twisted and he sat still in his seat for a very long moment. He needed to leave. Now.

“I apologise. I think it would be best if I were to leave,” Mycroft stood carefully, trying to keep his balance by bracing his hand with the chair. “Thank you for the tea and congratulations on the bond, though quite belatedly, I’m sure. I’ll see myself out.”

Mycroft couldn’t get out of the flat fast enough and glared at the stairs, knowing he would still take far too much time to get down them. And as fate would have it, he wouldn’t get down them unseen either. About midway down the steps, Mrs Hudson came out of her flat and was about to start up the stairs, likely wondering if the boys had company and if they needed anything. She looked a good bit startled to find a heavily pregnant Mycroft coming down them, having not seen the man since before he started showing prominently.

“Oh! Mycroft. My, you’ve gotten big haven’t you? I’d almost forgotten you were expecting. Would you like some help?” Mycroft just glared at here, looking put out.

“No, thank you Mrs Hudson, but I think I can manage on my own. Stairs just aren’t exactly a strong point for me at the moment.” He made an effort to descend a little quicker, grimacing.

“Well, if you’re sure.” Fortunately, she seemed to get the idea to stay out of his way and soon he was out the door, to the curb and into his car, sinking down into the seat. Sighing, he closed his eyes and settled his hands on his belly. He had some information to process. And then… then he might just do something about it.

\--

Greg was sitting at his desk, a bloody battlefield of paperwork it was, nursing a headache. He should probably eat something but that meant leaving his office and having to get through a bunch of people that he would rather not have to deal with at the moment. Though the aircon was working once more, even a cool building wasn’t enough to control his temper lately. Just that morning he had snapped at Sally over nothing and he couldn’t even go near the labs without thinking poorly of Anderson. Didn’t help that Ashburn was still stinking up the place, waltzing around like he owned all of New Scotland Yard.

When his phone chimed in his pocket it was an almost welcomed distraction, especially when he saw it was from John. Likely a request for a pub meet, which Greg would agree to whole heartedly. While he didn’t fancy going into work tomorrow with a hangover, he didn’t fancy being sober that night either. Yet, he quickly found that it was not a request for a pub meet.

_Are you sure Mycroft gave you the brush off? What exactly did he say? -JW_

Greg stared at the message in confusion. What the hell brought that up? And what did John mean by it? Greg knew perfectly well what Mycroft had said and meant by it, didn’t he? Greg placed his mobile atop one of the crime scene photos and stared at the message while he thought back on Mycroft’s words. Mycroft had laid it out, stating that while he acknowledged something was there between them, he didn’t know what to do about it and all but implied that he didn’t really care to try. But he hadn’t gone and said it, had he?

Greg sat back in his chair, chewing on the corner of his lip. Blimey, had he been mistaken. God, what if he had? What if that had been Mycroft’s way of saying that he was confused and out of his depth and his way of reaching to Greg? A sense of dread wrapped with self-loathing hit him hard enough to upturn his stomach and he was soon reaching for his mobile. He needed to call Mycroft and make sure. If it was all a misunderstanding, if it was all Greg’s mess, he needed to fix it.

But he stopped with his hand hovering over the mobile, not quite touching it. Then again, it could all be wishful thinking. He could still be right and what then? He would just sound pathetic and needy if he called Mycroft and the last thing he wanted was to be proven as weak as Ashburn accused him of and to have Mycroft laugh at him. But God what if he had been wrong all along? Christ, what should he do?

When Mycroft got home, the first thing he did was change into something more casual that didn’t smell like Sherlock and co. Once he’d donned a simple pair of black trousers and a white button down, he walked into his den and sat down on the sofa. There was still a trace of Greg’s scent and it was enough to get him to relax. Sighing, he settled his hands on his belly and leaned back.

If it was all a mistake than he needed to fix things, he needed to make things right. He needed Greg. He didn’t know how much of it was just the hormones, but in the last week he’d come to need the man like he needed air. And since said man wasn’t around, he’d actually been rather depressed. He wanted Greg back, but, under the impression that Greg was doing better without him, he’d done nothing about it. Now it seemed he’d been wrong.

The man sighed, rubbing his stomach as the baby rolled and seemed to stretch. She would have a much better life if he and Greg were together, not being in separate homes and dividing time to spend with here. What’s more, Mycroft _wanted_ Greg with him. Mycroft had never been in a serious relationship to be completely honest, his lifestyle not allowing for long-term lovers. But now he had a child on the way. If there was any time to change his lifestyle, it was now. But… he knew he wanted to try.

After thinking things over for a while, he closed his eyes and let out a soft breath. He’d made his decision of what he was going to do. Nodding once, he got out his phone and selected Greg’s number. He wrote and rewrote the text several times before finally sending it.

_You told me when you left to contact you should I ever need anything. Well, I do. I need you to come by my flat. I’ll explain everything when you get here. –M_

Greg had eventually decided that he needed to wait until after work before worrying about his personal life. Another body was expected in the coming weeks and no matter how much of a miserable bastard that he felt, he had to be on top of his game to catch the killer. It was rather discouraging that they found someone clever enough to run circles around Sherlock Holmes of all people, he could admit that, but he still had a duty to the people and that required his attention. So being the good copper he claimed to being, he turned his mobile on silent and tucked it away where it would not become a distraction.

By six in the evening however, he was still no closer to finding anything relevant no matter who he called or how many times he stared at the photos. Even Ashburn seemed to have lost some of his drive to make Greg’s life a living hell, which was his cue to take everything home and wrack his brain there. Maybe Sherlock would be up to brainstorming/ throwing abuse at Greg. At least he was used to it from the younger Holmes... But then Greg had to check his phone.

He wasn’t as good as he liked to claim when he was already thumbing a text to Mycroft before he could even gather the files, the case momentarily forgotten. What it said about him was obvious, he just would rather not dwell on how pathetic he was that he might actually be feeling relief at the horrible thought that Mycroft could have got himself in another mess that he needed Greg there if only to keep him from doing more damage.

_I’m just about to leave the office. Just tell me you’re not hurt again. -GL_

“Hey Sally, I’m going to clock out and take what I can home. Call my personal number if anything comes up!” He made quick work of gathering the files, just in case he could get to them, then quickly threw his blazer over his shoulders. All thought of a fag after work flew out of his mind and instead he hoped he had the neutralizer spray still in his car. Wouldn’t do to aggravate Mycroft’s senses just because Greg couldn’t kick a bloody habit.

_No, I’m in perfect health, not to worry. I just wish to speak with you. I’ll put the kettle on.-M_

Mycroft replied quickly, smiling a little when Greg didn’t reject his request. Maybe this would work after all. Carefully getting up, he went to the loo, looking himself over after washing up. He couldn’t help but wince a little at his reflection. The exhaustion and stress was clearly visible on his face and there really wasn’t much he could do to hide it. Shaking his head, he splashed some water on his face, grimaced at the blotchy patches for good measure and went out to the kitchen.

It was rather nice to be making tea for two again. He’d sort of gotten into the habit of making it for one after Greg had left, but it just hadn’t felt right anymore. He still had plenty of black tea so he got that out along with his own herbal. Mycroft may miss his tea, but for this conversation, it would be best if Greg had what he enjoyed. Which of course Mycroft knew to the letter. Setting out the cups, each with their respective teas, he thought over what he was going to say and do.

The man pursed his lips and got up for a moment, going into the nursery and giving it a long look. He remembered the moment they’d shared before Greg had left and frowned. He should have said something then but he’d been too stubborn. He hadn’t known the pain that Greg’s absence would cause him. Well, he hoped to change that now. Smiling, he returned to the kitchen to wait for Greg to arrive.

Because apparently his life was meant to be nonstop Hell, traffic had been a bloody bitch. He couldn’t remember the last time he left work at a decent hour, which meant he was stuck on the road during rush hour and wondering just how much of an abuse of power it would be to flip his lights on and drive on the side of the road.

Eventually his good conscience won and he suffered like any Londoner would. But by the time he reached Mycroft’s he was anxious, in a bad way for a smoke, and half debating whether it was going to be worth the hell of it all in the first place. He quickly decided that any excuse to see Mycroft was going to be worth it, even if he understood just how much of a love sick pup that made him. He would just blame it on the hormones if anyone asked.

With his hands in his blazer pockets, he approached the townhouse slowly, feeling something within him slowly unwind. He could smell Mycroft rich and clean at his doorstep and it worked wonders on Greg’s nerves even if it did nothing for the ache in his chest. He missed the man, good God did he, and he knew the day he left that each encounter was going to be hard. But Mycroft had called for him and there he was, as promised. Not sure what to expect but happy just because Mycroft had called for him, Greg knocked and waited.

Mycroft jumped a little when the knock finally came. The tea had gone cold, so he’d disposed of it and just got the kettle boiling instead for when Greg got there. It had been foolish of him to think that Greg would be able to get here quickly at this time of day. Wetting his lips, the man stood carefully with a grunt and hurried to the door.

He went over what he was going to say and do before he opened this. He could do this. It was a bit open and forward, but if there was anything that was needed to fix the mess, it was him being open and even a little forward. Nodding once, he took a deep breath and opened the door. Greg’s scent hit him in a wave, almost making him let out a sigh of relief. God, it was good to be in the presence of that scent again as well as its owner. He smiled at the Alpha walking up to him.

“Gregory..” Swallowing, he leaned in and pressed a chaste and tender kiss to Greg’s lips before the man could even say anything, right there on the doorstep. They tasted a little of nicotine but honestly he wasn’t surprised. It was still a nice kiss though. He then leaned back, a small smile on his face and a hopeful look in his eyes. “I’ve.. missed you. Do come in. We obviously have some things to talk about.”

Greg was rooted to the doorstep, dazed and forgetting to breathe for a moment. Mycroft had looked good, God had he looked good, and there had been no obvious sign of why he needed Greg. Until he kissed him. Greg’s breath had hitched in his lungs and stuck there and his brain momentarily went offline. He probably looked like an idiot, he vaguely thought, but the only thing he could concentrate on was Mycroft openly planting a kiss on his mouth in the middle of the doorway.

When he finally got his feet moving, it was not with a sudden bloom of hope but a chilling wariness. As much as he wanted to think that Mycroft had a change of heart, that maybe John had been right after all and it had all been a huge misunderstanding, he couldn’t trust himself or the signs to let himself hope. The last time they had been beyond platonic was so Mycroft could use him to scratch an itch. The first time they had done anything was because Greg had been ‘convenient.’ As much as he wanted to be there, as much as he needed to hear his name spoken like that again, he wasn’t sure if he could stand to just be used. Not again.

“Um,” Greg closed the door, licking his lips nervously. His brain was still static though, now useful words coming to him. All he could do was stare at Mycroft with a small frown with his hands back in his pockets to keep himself from grabbing Mycroft by the waist and doing something potentially stupid. Though God in heaven, with Mycroft’s scent all around him and the sense of being home settling in his veins, it was hard to think that anything regarding Mycroft was stupid. Still... “Myc?”

Mycroft watched Greg’s body language carefully, noting the hesitance after the kiss. It made his heart drop a little. He’d hurt the man enough that now Greg had become wary. The Omega sighed inwardly. It seemed that if he wanted this so truly work, he’d have to earn some of Greg’s trust back. What he was doing he considered a start. Mycroft was about to start for the kitchen when Greg spoke.

“I realise it’s sudden, but.. well, I’ve been doing some thinking and have made a few realisations and I was rather hoping you’d hear me out. I have the kettle on as promised. Perhaps we could take this to the kitchen?”

Mycroft desperately hoped he hadn’t ruined his chances with Greg, considering all he’d done, but he wouldn’t be surprised if he had. But then, according to what he’d heard, Greg was as miserable as he was so maybe there was a chance. Maybe that small sliver of relief he’d seen in Greg’s eyes meant he had somewhere to start. Sighing, he went into the kitchen with the hope that Greg would follow, as he’d really rather have this conversation sitting down over some hot tea and not standing in the foyer. Speaking his heart was hard for him and he’d rather do it in comfort.

Greg was still feeling like he had dropped into another dimension or something. Mycroft, now that he thought about it and actually paid attention, looked as bad off as Greg felt. Weary. Too amiable, like, his icy defences were down, which was just weird. Hopeful. It was all wrong, like all of his guards were down. Or he was about to tell Greg something truly horrible and was trying to soften the blow. Last time he’d seen that was Susan suddenly going from aloof to loving. Right before he found out about her cheating.

He scrubbed his hand over his face, feeling the harsh scratch of stubble. He was losing it, had to bloody be. With a short, slow nod he followed Mycroft into the kitchen. Tea sounded amazing, even if it was the crap herbal stuff. Only, once he sat down he could smell the proper stuff and that only made him more worried.

They had a standing agreement, he would drink what Mycroft did since Mycroft was the one suffering pregnancy without caffeine. If Mycroft was breaking that to let Greg have a proper Earl Grey or a Darjeeling, then something had to be wrong, right? Again Greg fought the urge to smack himself. He hadn’t slept proper since leaving the townhouse and work was slowly unravelling him piece by piece. He, simply, was not in the right mind for the one day that Mycroft decided to act like a normal person and not a Holmes.

“Tea sounds fantastic, and it does, and I’ll even get it so you can sit, but please give me something cause I’m starting to lose my mind here,” Greg pleaded, looking at Mycroft like a man lost.

He got up to show that he was willing to play ‘mother’ and gently placed his hands on Mycroft’s shoulders to urge him to sit down before the poor man fell down. The whole situation was just weird... but damn if Greg didn’t suddenly feel like nothing mattered, his nose almost right at the crook of Mycroft’s neck with the man’s warmth bleeding through his shirt and into Greg’s skin.

“So come on,” he said softly, the earlier panic subsiding. “What’s this about then?”

Mycroft was about to protest that he could make the tea just fine, but seeing the look in Greg’s eyes and hearing his words stopped him. The man was just trying to find solid ground. The way he leaned it, almost scenting Mycroft… Sighing, the Omega nodded and just sat down, watching the Alpha put the tea together. The man let out a soft breath when Greg finally asked.

“I fear… I fear I may have made a mistake.” He started, carefully thinking over what he should say again. “I’ve spent all my life hiding my emotions and I worry what I said to you the day after our coupling may not have come off as I intended,” Mycroft sighed, actually looking like he was struggling with his words, trying to find the right thing to say. He was so used to words rolling of his tongue with ease, but with this, they stuck in his throat.

“I’m not sure even I knew what I was trying to convey when I told you that. I was confused and quite frankly, I still am. I don’t know if what I’m feeling is being caused by the hormones, my body telling me I need a mate for the sake of the baby, or if it’s what I’m really feeling. As I said before, I.. I actually don’t have that much experience in the area.” He grit his teeth, closing his eyes. “And I’m probably not coming off any better now, am I? Talking about my emotions isn’t my forte and for that I apologise. But I’ve come to the conclusion that being more open about such things may be the only way to do it, as.. well, I really have no reason to close myself off from you. I trust you completely.”

Greg listened as he prepared their tea, just a dash of milk for himself, letting the ritual help to further calm his rambled nerves. He couldn't help but smile when Mycroft said 'coupling.' It was so Mycroft, being all prim instead of just outright saying sex. It was an odd comfort.

He sat down with their tea just as Mycroft started to get frustrated with himself. He was repeating what he had said almost two weeks ago, and Greg knew well that Holmes' hate repeating themselves. It really hit home that John, of all people, had hit the whole situation on the head.

A misunderstanding. Mycroft hadn't come out as he meant to and Greg had read him entirely wrong. If he was right, then the last week, more like two weeks, of hell had been for naught and because Greg was thick, they had both suffered. Greg shook his head at himself while reaching across the table to take Mycroft's hand.

"I don't know why you do." He smiled weakly and squeezed Mycroft's hand. "But I get it, I think. Not your area and I'm an idiot." He laughed at himself, the last knot of tension finally coming loose in his chest. "Think there's any way we can just start over, huh?"

Mycroft let out a breath of relief when Greg took his hand and the ache in his chest finally seemed to subside. It had been a misunderstanding, though Mycroft felt he’d probably have to handle it all with kid gloves. They were both still a little unstable from the emotional battering that the last few weeks had provided. The Omega smiled softly.

“I had rather hoped we wouldn’t be starting over. Perhaps before this whole misunderstanding but not a complete restart. My back has been hurting far too much to go back to how things were before you started offering your amazing backrubs,” He replied with a light chuckle, squeezing back. “Because I want to try to do this right. I can’t promise things will be the same after she’s born if it truly is the hormones, but at this moment, I want this. I..” Mycroft paused, glancing around the kitchen and shaking his head. “I want you back here, with me. It hasn’t felt like home since you left.”

Mycroft felt weird saying all this and he sincerely hoped Greg didn’t expect him to act like this all the time. The Omega felt he could talk about things like this where it was needed, but he was rather uncomfortable doing it. He was being open for Greg’s sake, but he didn’t think he could keep it up. It made him feel soft and vulnerable and that made him very uneasy. Once he was sure he’d gotten his point across, he would happily revert to his usual way of acting. But, he was doing what was needed for the time being and would do it whenever he felt it was important that Greg understood what he was feeling. At least he would try. It wouldn’t do to have another of such misunderstandings.

"Yeah?" Mycroft probably thought Greg a little kid or something, the way he got all hopeful and excited over him inviting Greg back. But he couldn't help feeling like it was Christmas, even if there was still the risk of Mycroft coming to his senses and booting Greg out the moment the baby was born. "I mean..."

Greg shook his head and took a sip of tea to make himself act like a bloody adult. The sharp bitter bite of a black tea with the soft cream of milk helped a bit for sure. He released a breath then looked up at Mycroft with a subdued smile.

"Yeah, I'd like that. Whatever you want, okay? But definitely on the back rubs and moving back here. Might be a bit forward, but I missed you like hell. I was a wreck, Myc. An absolute mess. Also," Greg laughed at what he was about to say. "I really missed the couch. Me back's killing me after sleeping in that damn bed again."

“Good. Well, you’re welcome back. As you know, I’ve also missed you terribly.” Mycroft said with a chuckle. “I’ve even been sleeping with a shirt you left behi- actually, forget I just said that,” The Omega’s face flushed red with embarrassment. He was quite happy that Greg would be back with him, but he hadn’t expected to want to spew everything he’d done to deal with the man being away to him.

“Well… all right. Yes, I’ve been sleeping with your shirt, but your scent has been comforting in this past week since you weren’t around. I’m fairly sure it’s a nesting thing. I seem to need you biologically, which is why I’m still so confused about what I’m feeling,” Mycroft sighed, smiling sadly. “But, even if it does prove to be hormonal, I still wish for things to be well between us. Although it seems to have caused us some distress, I’m actually glad our attitudes toward each other in the past two weeks were caused by a misunderstanding. I want us to at least be on good terms, seeing as we’ll be raising a child together.”

Mycroft didn’t really know what else to say, so he took another sip of his tea and leaned back, resting his hands on his belly. The baby was moving a little, but she seemed to be calmed by the presence of her father. It occurred to him then that they were going to have to come up with a name for her. Mycroft hadn’t even given it thought, which was odd for him considering he planned everything. Though, considering the whole pregnancy, a lot of things about it weren’t going like he originally planned. And he wasn’t exactly sure if that was for better or worse. Things hadn’t been great for the most part, save one glorious week. But, with luck, things were getting better.

Greg took one more sip of his tea then rose to his feet. He walked behind Mycroft, his hands dropping on the Omega’s shoulders and massaging firmly but gently. “So then,” he started softly, keeping his tone calm and even so he didn’t feel like he was trying to push or manipulate by tone of voice. “I’ll just have to do what I can to leave you no doubt when our little girl is born.”

He didn’t want to push Mycroft, he really didn’t. He knew the man was struggling enough with himself, but Greg held fast in his convictions that they could be good together. They always had been, even when it was Mycroft kidnapping him to fancy, creepy clubs for meetings about Sherlock or getting his help in tricky situations. Their relationship before had always been professional, but they had discovered an easy flow between them from the start. A small thing, but it was something.

“I know we can be good together, Mycroft. I know we can raise our little girl, and we really need to figure out a name, and be the best damn parents. You just need to trust someone else who isn’t you. If you think you can do that, then I know I can earn your trust. All of it. I can’t promise to be perfect, but I can promise to always, always be there for you. I don’t care the cost. You getting me?”

“I already do trust you, remember. I think perhaps it’s myself I don’t trust with the hormones and all. I have no doubt we could be good together. In fact, I’d say we have the capacity to be great together. It’s just the worst of times for me to realise that because I’ve never been pregnant before and I can honestly say I don’t know if the hormones and the natural want to be around the father of my child is enough to cause me to feel such things. But I’m talking myself in circles, aren’t I?”

Mycroft smiled as he felt Greg’s warmth behind him, noting how right it felt after a week of the man’s absence. He could tell the Alpha was still hesitant; perhaps the man thought Mycroft would reject his comforts, but Mycroft wouldn’t and sincerely hoped that such feeling wouldn’t fade with the birth of their child. Sighing, he leaned back into Greg’s touch, smiling softly. He’d missed those hands.

“I want you here and you’re always free to my couch. I wish I had something better for you and I suppose you could take my room upstairs. I’ve stayed downstairs as it’s easier on my back. If there’s anything I don’t trust at the moment, it’s stairs and my ability to get up and down them. If I broke my ankle on them at five months pregnant, I can only imagine the damage I can do at seven.” He let out a small sigh and smiled. With hope, this would work and he couldn’t be happier that the man was back, even though it felt they might have to tend carefully for a few days until they were back into routine and more comfortable again.

Greg let the issue drop, even though he felt he could argue more on his point, but it likely wouldn’t get him anywhere. It didn’t matter. They were there now with Mycroft practically melting under his hands. So as far as he was concerned, all was as it needed to be right then. Greg didn’t tend to be a man to push his luck too often and he wasn’t about to start with Mycroft when he was... vulnerable. As odd a concept as that was.

“I think it would be too weird to sleep in your bed without you. In the room. Or... you know.” Greg winced and mentally kicked himself. Right. Not pushing his luck. “I mean it’s your personal space and it’s not like you can really get up there and make sure I don’t snoop right? So, the couch is fine. Seriously. Like I said, I missed the couch.” He also didn’t like the idea of being a while flight of stairs away from Mycroft in case he was needed during the night, but that went without saying.

Mycroft leaned back, looking up at Greg and raising an eyebrow at the “sleep in your bed without you” comment and smirked. He hadn’t actually thought about that. He and Greg had only shared a bed once and not for very long. Though in those few sleepy hours before he’d run off with the sheet, it had been rather pleasant. And.. well, he _had_ been sleeping with Greg’s shirt (which he was surprised the Alpha hadn’t teased him about), though that hardly counted at the man himself, though it did prove that having Greg’s scent nearby helped him sleep. But the sofa would do for now if Greg insisted. They would have to see what happened from there.

“Well, if you insist. I actually find I’m not as bothered by the idea of having you stay in my upstairs room as I originally was though. As I’ve said, I trust you now, but I could see how that could be weird.” He sighed again, smiling as the baby kicked at his palms once or twice.  It was amazing how calm she had become after only a few minutes of him being around Greg.

“I can tell things are going to take a little time to settle, but I want us back to how we were before this whole mishap. I rather enjoyed that and I find myself hungry for comfort…” He murmured, closing his eyes and focusing on Greg’s hands on him, humming softly. He’d missed this and as much as he hoped that everything would go right back to haw it had been, they both had a lot of making up to do.

“What,” Greg asked teasingly while sweeping his thumbs over the tight knots along the sides of Mycroft’s neck to slowly ease them into submission. “My shirt’s not enough comfort?” He couldn’t help it, as sad as that made him, but the image of Mycroft sleeping with his shirt was just too damn sweet and he couldn’t resist teasing about it a little bit. It was either that or offer to replace the shirt with himself. They were not ready for that, he felt.

“Not that I’m saying I mind, of course. Rather sweet to think. It’s kinda cute.” He readied himself to spring away just in case Mycroft retaliated, but he knew before the baby he was faster than the Omega and seven months in, one of their daughter’s soon to be teddy bears was likely faster.

Granted, he hadn’t a good meal since yesterday so it wasn’t like he was on the top of his game. So naturally, because he was thinking about food, his stomach gave a rather disconcertingly loud rumble that had a blush immediately creeping up from the neck. Luckily, Mycroft couldn’t see that. “But uh, before you plot my demise for being a bully, have you eaten yet?”

“I haven’t actually. And, admittedly, if there was any place to start making things right between us again, a meal is good as any,” Mycroft’s cheeks had flushed a little when Greg had called him cute again, but the teasing was part of their little routine and he’d slowly become used to it. Having it absent for two weeks actually made him a little fond of it. Greg had his way of showing affection after all. The growl of the other man’s stomach had just made him chuckle.

“Are you thinking of us going out somewhere or would you prefer if we got something together here? My refrigerator is fully stocked so I’m sure we could manage.” Mycroft, personally was only about a halfway decent cook since he was usually catered to when not at home, but he was good enough that he’d eat his own food. Mostly. There were times that just having something ready to eat was the better option.

It made him think of mornings with pastries he sometimes had fetched from the nearby bakery and the fresh fruits and eggs and herbal tea. And Greg coming up behind him to nuzzle his neck and cup his stomach. It was funny. For now, he’d noticed, whenever he thought of mornings, it was always with Greg, with his teasing and affectionate touches, being all ruffled and very much not a morning person. Those mornings were always better than any other, and God had Mycroft missed them. It gave him hope, because somehow, he didn’t think that enjoying mornings with someone was something cause by hormones. He hopes that that, among other things, was all him.

Reassured that Mycroft wasn't about to smack him, Greg gave Mycroft a firm squeeze of his shoulders then bound for the fridge. He was hungry enough to cook, which was saying something. He wasn't much for cooking, being a lazy sod as soon as he was out of the station, but he was decent and he hadn't poisoned Mycroft the couple of times he had cooked for the man.

"I'm overdue cooking for you. I'll see what I can throw together." It would help them get back into the swing of things at least, for him to have something to do. Not that he hadn't been enjoying giving Mycroft a massage. But they were both hungry and he didn't think he could handle being out in public just yet.

"How do you think she'd be for pasta?" He inquired after doing a bit of rummaging. The only meat that was not frozen was a thing of sage sausage and Mycroft had the stuff he needed for a good sauce. He could make spaghetti easily enough. "Could make spaghetti and meat balls if ya can stomach. Might do with a salad too."

He turned the bag of salad to find the expiration date, a bad habit he always had from never spending enough attention to what he kept at home. Or rather his flat. Funny how living with Mycroft made him more careful about those sorts of things when not even Susan had managed to get him to be more mindful.

“Pasta and a salad sounds wonderful to me and as for her, well, I can only hope she feels the same.” He replied with a chuckle, his hands sliding over his stomach again, pausing to momentarily scratch one side of it. The stretch marks had only grown wider in the past few weeks and had begun to itch, much to his displeasure. He seriously hoped that the marks would go away postpartum, though he had heard horror stories… He’d also heard that various lotions and creams were supposed to help make them fade and sooth the itching, but he hadn’t really had time to look into such things. He was starting to think perhaps he should.

“I should warn you though, my appetite has been decreasing a little and I imagine it will continue to do so. The bigger she gets, the less room there is for food. I’ve gone back to taking smaller meals but more of them in a day, though at the moment, I am actually rather hungry.” Mycroft told the man casually, watching Greg flit through the fridge, checking to insure the salad Mycroft had only gotten yesterday was still good. Not that the Omega was going to call him out on it. If anything, it showed he cared.

Mycroft hoped this was how things were going to be, hoped they could ease back into a comforting routine. Greg would get his things and move back in; Mycroft not doubting that doing so would sooth both of their nerves. The closer Mycroft got to his due date, the less he wanted to leave the house and Greg living with him again would ease if not erase the discomfort he’d felt, even in his own home. He decided that after a week of being alone with only their unborn child and his thoughts, that having someone around was needed to avoid depression. And that someone had to be Greg.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ask and you shall receive.

“See, knew she’s doing just fine. Absolutely perfect,” Greg crowed as he helped Mycroft over the damn step. It had been a long appointment what with their daughter having apparently been hyper while they had needed her to sit still and it wasn’t like he had been able to get his hands on Mycroft’s stomach while they had been sliding the pads around. Not that Greg really saw that as a bad thing. Just meant she was healthy, which the tech had confirmed. “Isn’t that right, Chloe? You’re absolutely perfect,” he said with a sidelong glance up at Mycroft, bent down as he was to talk directly to his stomach in the middle of the foyer. 

The past three days had been a war on names, clocking it at four days together so far. Outside of them annoying each other with Greg’s ‘simple, insipid’ name choices and Mycroft seemingly bent on setting their daughter up for a life of bullying, it had been a pretty good four days. They got back into the swing of things pretty easily, without much of a hitch. It was almost too good to be true.

“Or maybe Zoe? Does that appeal to your archaic ways, Mycroft, or is that too simple?” He kept his hands on Mycroft’s stomach as he rose up, his smile all cheek. They still had some time to come to an agreement, if they ever came to an agreement. If all else, Mycroft would be too busy having the baby to know when Greg gave the name to put down on the birth certificate.

Mycroft let out a short annoyed breath, even though he couldn’t help but smile when Greg addressed his belly. He was glad that things had seemed to go back to the way they had been. The last few days had been comfortable, slipping into their old routine and he hoped that wouldn’t change anytime soon. Though Greg’s choices of names annoyed him to no end. Really, they were simplistic, everyday names and he wasn’t going to stand for it. Their daughter was going to stand out, with a beautiful name that would inspire awe in other’s hearts. It was more or less tradition.

“While I’m sure she can hear you, I highly doubt _Calanthe_ can understand what you’re saying yet, Gregory.” He mused, smoothing his shirt over his belly, stopping on Greg’s hand. The man’s skin was warm and comforting and he was all too glad to have Greg back, with his warm scent and caring hands. However, at the moment, he raised an eyebrow.

 Zoe and Chloe indeed. While he had to admit, Zoe did mean ‘life’ in Greek and that was a nice sentiment, he was fairly sure Greg hadn’t picked it with that in mind. As for Chloe, well, personally ‘life’ was better than ‘green shoot’. Calanthe on the other hand was a very unique and elegant name, meaning ‘beautiful flower’ and he thought it would fit her nicely if only Greg would listen to his suggestions.

Greg flexed his fingers under Mycroft’s hands though he made no attempt to shake him off. He liked their little battle of wills and admittedly, he liked the excuse of being that close to Mycroft. If Mycroft wanted to keep him there, as close to the both of them as he was going to get at the moment, he wasn’t going to complain. But the latest name Mycroft came up with; that he had plenty to complain about.

“Calan... Cal... is that even a name? I can’t even pronounce that and I’m pretty sure you made that up!” Though he was a tad loud on his protest, he was having a hard time fighting his smile. “I think all that time with you on your back with her on your spine did something to your brain. And what’s wrong with Chloe? It’s not as simple as say, Alice, which you denied yesterday without even giving it a chance! I like the name Alice.”

He flexed his fingers again just to see if he could get his daughter kicking to use her movement in his favour however he could. But it seemed with their body heat surrounding her and all the movement she had done earlier, she was had decided to take a nap. Honestly, with how high he was feeling after getting to see her again, them both in a good mood it seemed, he could care less what they called her. So as long as he could at least pronounce her name.

“Calanthe is a name and a perfectly good one!” Mycroft grumbled, puffing his chest out and looking cross. “It means beautiful flower and isn’t as hard to pronounce as you’re making it out to be… but, if you aren’t going to even try, I suppose Emmeline would be a good one. That’s not too hard for you is it?”

Mycroft ignored the suggestion of Alice as it was far too simple and had become popular from Lewis Carroll's _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ and _Through the Looking Glass_ in the 1860’s and 70’s and the last thing he was going to do was name his daughter after the brainchild of a hallucinating novelist. Emmeline was a family name and a well-respected and would be perfectly suitable for their little girl.

“We’ll continue this when I get back, so don’t think for a moment that it’s over. She just so happens to seem to have fallen asleep on my bladder, so if you’ll excuse me...” Mycroft squeezed the Alpha’s hand before removing it and heading for the loo. The need to relieve himself was becoming constantly closer and closer together as time passed, but he wasn’t surprised at this point, even if it did mean a trip to the bathroom every few hours. Once he was finished and had washed up, he returned, smirking at Greg. “Any chance you’ve reconsidered? Because we’re _not_ naming her Alice.”

Greg had flopped himself on the couch as Mycroft waddled to the bathroom, though when he waddled out he made sure to make room in case Mycroft had wanted to share. Greg had been at work practically 24/7 all week so he was given a couple of hours to himself until he was expected back the next morning, bright and early. It at least meant a whole night to themselves, so he supposed that he shouldn’t complain too much about the early and rude awakening planned.

“Well, at least it’s not a flower, seriously, we’re not naming our kid after a flower! Might as well say you want to call her Tulip or Daffodil!” Greg laughed incredulously, shaking his head, while patting the space next to him to prompt Mycroft to sit down.

“Though if you want to go that route, I wouldn’t be opposed to Rose.” Mycroft didn’t have to know that it was mostly because of Doctor Who, though come to think of it, Greg had fancied the young blonde companion, so maybe not. “But Emmeline? You have got to...”

There was something about Mycroft’s expression though that told him not to comment further. Maybe Emmeline was his grandmother’s name or something, in which Greg really did not want to step on that land mine. “Er... maybe put that one on the bottom of the list,” he amended with a grimacing smile that was likely going to get him a pillow in the gob.

“What’s wrong with Emmeline? She was my great aunt.” He replied with a huff as he carefully sat beside Greg. “But, fair enough. But I’m not agreeing to Rose either. Calanthe is a beautiful orchid, not some common garden variety flower.” He settled back against the cushions, moving a little closer to Greg, if only to get his daily dose of the Alpha’s scent, though there was a lot more to it than that.

“I am starting to see a pattern though. You apparently are favouring short, simple names. What if we settle on a compromise? I find a name suitable of my heritage, but pick ones that can be shortened into a nickname much like your own.. and to an extent, mine, though I can tell you, my mother never intended for my name to be shortened to ‘Myc’ when she named me.”

Mycroft smirked at that though as he settled his hands on his stomach. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t fond of Greg’s nickname for him, but he was trying to make a point here. Sighing, he went through his steadily growing list of acceptable names in his head, thinking of names that could be shortened.

“Hm… How do you feel about Anneliese? As much I’d personally dislike doing so, you could shorten it to Anna.” He offered, rubbing a few small circles on the side of his belly, feeling a little achy. He’d been up and about more today than usual and he could feel it. Nothing to worry about though.

Greg hummed in thought while watching Mycroft rub at his own stomach. “Maybe. Might have potential,” he allowed without actually having to give in. As much as he enjoyed just throwing names out there, he wasn’t willing to make a full decision until they had first and middle names to sort through and find what pair fit best. It was picky, he knew, but he was going to make sure that the perfect name fit his perfect little girl.

But perhaps their argument could continue later. Just watching Mycroft try to soothe an ache himself was making Greg’s fingers itch to touch and be nearer and Mycroft was obviously overdue a good back or belly rub. “But hey, you’re doing my job over there. Come ‘ere.”

He didn’t really wait for Mycroft to move over though, instead sliding in close with one hand stretching behind Mycroft while he shifted into a comfortable position to give Mycroft a good rub on the achy parts of his stomach. “We agreed that you’d let me take care of the kinks and what not. Besides, you know that _Abigail_ likes my rubs better,” he added with a smirk.

While Mycroft hadn’t come out and said anything about stretch marks and what not, Greg had read about marks and blemishes during pregnancy so he was prepared next time and read a bit about how uncomfortable stretch marks were. Considering where Mycroft usually rubbed, Greg had a pretty good idea what the culprit was. Lucky for Mycroft, Greg had made online orders for creams and the like that should be coming in soon. He hoped he was there when Mycroft discovered them though, he liked when he surprised the man.

Mycroft was about to give him a look for Abigail, because really, Abigail? But then, the man was closer to him, his hand on Mycroft’s stomach, the other around his back and the Omega couldn’t care less. Because of the proximity, he was wrapped in Greg’s scent and warmth, which lulled him. The DI’s hands were comforting and Mycroft found that he didn’t really mind that Greg had changed the subject. Mostly.

“Not Abigail.” He murmured before letting out a contented sigh. “But the sides and bottom of my stomach have been bothering me most. Though I’m sure you’ve noticed as you already seem to be rubbing there. You’re right; I think I am long overdue for this. My back too.. But you can do that later. Just keep doing what you’re doing now. It feels wonderful. She seems to like it too.”

Mycroft practically purred, closing his eyes with a soft smile. God, it felt good to have someone to do this again, and by someone, he meant Greg. In the back of his mind, he realised that this could lead to other things, but this time, strangely, he didn’t mind. He didn’t quite know where their relationship stopped at, at this point, but he actually hoped that it might extend to that. Greg was a great lover from what he could tell; good at being both passionate and tender and Mycroft rather hoped he would see that side of him in that context again. But, for the moment, it was just a belly rub, so he would leave it at that.

God, Greg could count Mycroft practically purring like a kitten under his hands as one of his favourite things. He loved taking care of people in such a simple, easy way, putting his calloused hands to good use. He had discovered his knack for it at Uni, starting with a girl friend with back issues. Also discovered pretty quick that way that he enjoyed making all sorts of people, gender nonexclusive, turn into mewling puddles from massages and then some. He had become a little more reserved since then, but no one said he couldn’t still enjoy it when he had the chance.

Maybe it was a bit perverse though, the way he drank up Mycroft’s soft sighs of pleasure, or the way he didn’t even fight the low thrum of arousal from it. It was just a simmering heat, easily ignored, but he had thought for the past four days that if all he ended up being was a means to scratch an itch, he might not actually mind. So as long as they didn’t end up awkward and stupid like last time.

“Just tell me what you need,” he said in a low tone, deeper than he had intended. Mycroft just felt so good against him, his usually sharp features soft with contentment as Greg eased away the aches and pains. And the scent that rolled off the man. It held a sweeter quality than usual, reminded Greg of warm, sweet honey. That alone was enough to unknit his own muscles, making him just as pliant and eager to please. “You know I’d never turn down a chance to make you feel good.”

Mycroft nodded, letting out a soft sigh. He was letting his mind get away from him as Greg rubbed his stomach, but it was indulgent if anything. Greg’s hands running over his stomach, soothing his aching muscles, relaxing him. Slowly, he felt a stirring down below, but ignored it, just letting himself unwind. This was nice and he wasn’t going to ruin it.

Except, of course, his body seemed to think otherwise. Said stirrings became a bit more than just stirrings and he found himself with a rather embarrassing protrusion in his trousers. His face flushing, he adjusted himself and glanced at Greg. He didn’t want to mess this all up again by pressing sexual needs onto the Alpha. It was just hormonal, he reminded himself. Still. He could control himself this time. He wasn’t going to make a fool of himself.

“… Perhaps… Perhaps you should move to my back, Gregory. As much as I’m enjoying this, I think I may be enjoying it too much. It’s hormonal, I’m fairly sure, but… I can control myself this time. I just… I don’t want it to seem like I’m using you, Gregory…” He murmured, shifting again, now unsure if he should be moving closer or further away. “I know I would enjoy it, but I don’t want it to seem like an impulsive happening that doesn’t mean anything…” He muttered, his face flushing a little more as he looked away.

Greg’s chest expanded with a quick exhale as Mycroft’s words alone sent a burst of hot arousal zipping down his spine and straight to his cock. His instincts told him to throw Mycroft’s caution and concerns right out the bloody window and just _take_ , but he was still above his bloody Alpha instincts. He didn’t move away however, or stop, but for Mycroft’s sake he did move his hand a little higher in the opposite direction that his hand wanted to roam.

“I just have one thing to ask,” Greg said slowly, as evenly as he could. His voice was deep and hoarse though, his mouth suddenly dry. He also had to take a moment to lick his lips and calm his breath again. It was hard to stay so level though, with his cock throbbing hard and needy and Mycroft’s scent (sweet because of arousal Greg just figured out,) making him a bit dizzy with want. But hell if he was going to let either of them screw up what they had between them.

“Was what happened last time all impulse? Did it mean nothing? Cause if so, I’ll pull away. Let you get a breather. We’ll take a short walk and get some air or something. But...” He let the sentence hang while he slowly moved his hand from under Mycroft’s back, but he let his fingers caress the back of Mycroft’s neck in a silent promise.

Mycroft just had to look at him to know what Greg wanted. And if he asked, Greg would flat out tell him that he wouldn’t regret it and haven’t yet. But he never, ever wanted to be seen as a mistake in Mycroft’s eyes. He would rather countless of private showers with his right hand than for them to lose the easy thing that they finally had. For Mycroft to regard anything regarding Greg as meaningless.

Mycroft worried his lip with his teeth, settling his hands on his stomach, thinking it over carefully. What had the last time meant to him? It had started rough and needy, with him pressing Greg up against the foyer wall and kissing him deeply. But once they’d gotten into the bedroom, things had slowed down and it became less about fucking, more about Greg taking care of him. He then closed his eyes for a moment, picturing it. After a moment, he nodded, smiling a little and glancing back at Greg.

“I think it started impulsive, _but_..” Mycroft sighed, fiddling with a button on his shirt and taking a deep breath. “But, I feel that once it slowed down, it became more intimate and… well, then I felt it actually was something, I just didn’t know what to make of it. I liked it though.” Mycroft flushed again and started to look frustrated as he tried to mull through his words. These were emotions again and he still wasn’t used to talking about them. “It wasn’t a mistake and I apologise if I made it seem that way.”

He leaned in towards Greg again and nuzzled his neck, sighing into the man’s shoulder and taking in his scent before kissing the bare skin above Greg’s collar. “I understand you probably still don’t trust me and I don’t blame you, but this isn’t just a means to an end. I actually want this…”

Greg had been really fighting the urge to smile or call Mycroft’s nervous fumbling and stumbling over words ‘cute.’ Luckily for him, that potential hazard had been quickly and thoroughly overridden the moment Mycroft nuzzled against him. At the feel of lips against his skin followed by Mycroft's humid breath and soft words had Greg trying not to tip his head back but nothing could stop him from making a high, yearning sound.

“I do trust you. I just...” Christ, he didn’t know what he was saying, if he even managed to string the words with his voice broken. His body was probably loud and clear though, tented trousers, racing heartbeat, sweat blooming at the back of his neck and under his palms. Of which were definitely busy.

He resumed the belly rub, though his hand was no longer on the crest of Mycroft’s stomach but traveling lower and lower still. He mapped the firm curve then brushed his fingers down until he was grasping Mycroft’s thigh, the back of his knuckles brushing against the bulge while the heat of Mycroft’s body bled into him like a blazing fire.

“Slow,” he said, breathless. Greg then shifted onto his knees without dislodging his hand on Mycroft’s thigh while the other came up to gently cup the back of the Omega’s neck. Greg could feel how flushed his cheeks and neck were, could imagine how dark his eyes were just then. Wondered how he looked to Mycroft while Mycroft looked delectable. Soft and pink with want but with a hint of vulnerability that made Greg’s chest feel tight.

“We can go slow. I want this too, God how can I not?” He licked his lips, looked down at Mycroft’s mouth, then back to Mycroft’s eyes. He wanted to kiss him so badly, wanted to bloody claim the man. But he held still. He waited. This still had to be Mycroft’s choice. Nothing impulsive. Greg didn’t want there to be any doubt. He knew there wasn’t a shred of it on his mind.

Mycroft’s eyelids fluttered and his breath hitched as Greg’s hand wandered downward over his belly and to his thigh, brushing against Mycroft’s erection. He bit his lip and took a few deep breaths. It all made him want to jump the man with hungry abandon, but he wasn’t going to do that this time. They were going to take things slow this time. This wasn’t just about sex. This was about trust and comfort. This was about them.

“Slow.. yes. I think that might be for the best this time around.” He murmured, his breath quickening despite his efforts. He looked back up at Greg, easily taking in the signs that the Alpha was on the same page. Pupils dilated, skin flushed, breathing faster, a rather impressive protuberance in his trousers; yes, Greg was definitely aroused and interested.

The Omega wet his lips as Greg cupped the back of his neck, noting the way Greg was looking at him. The man was making an effort not to just let instinct take over. Mycroft had already voiced that they should take it slow, so that’s what he was probably going to try to do. This was important to Greg too.  His lips curving upward, the elder Holmes leaned in and kissed Greg, soft, wet and open. It was tender, but not chaste, an open invitation. Mycroft shifted to face Greg a little more and then slid him hands across the man’s ribs, a warm rumble catching in his throat.

Greg sighed into the kiss, a shudder running through him. It was a proper kiss for once, slow and meaningful even though the sheer hunger that Mycroft had inflicted on him last time was still there. But it wasn’t all need. All just sex and Greg could get lost in that. Oh he was still a bit wary, an insistent voice in the back of his mind telling him to be careful, but he happily squashed it to the deep corners of his mind. He trusted Mycroft. It was himself that he didn’t trust.

Hands on his chest, long nimble fingers exploring, but through the cotton of his shirt. With a nip to Mycroft’s bottom lip, Greg leaned back to tug the shirt off and fling it somewhere at the bookcase. It was deliciously cold in the townhouse, sending chills over his overheated body, the contrast made only more delicious by the fire in Mycroft’s eyes. It felt good to be wanted, and not just because he was a willing body. Damn good.

That out of the way he leaned back in for more, catching Mycroft’s mouth in another sweet kiss that left Greg reeling. But he got the feeling that Mycroft was holding himself back or distracted. An underlying tension between them. That and Greg was half naked and not being touched like he wanted. He’d just have to do something about that.

He broke the kiss to trail his lips across Mycroft’s chin to his ear; Greg wrapped his hand around Mycroft’s wrist to guide his hand to where Greg wanted attention. He got the sense that Mycroft wanted to touch him, Mycroft was wonderfully grabby like that, but he wasn’t letting himself. Now he didn’t have a choice.

“Slow doesn’t mean holding back, luv,” he whispered in Mycroft’s ear before snatching Mycroft’s earlobe between his teeth playfully. “Haven’t you ever just explored? You know, have fun? Or has sex always been about scratching an itch?” It felt a bit odd to him that Mycroft might never have had taken the actual time to just enjoy a partner, yet at the same time Greg found it thrilling. And a bit of an ego boost if he was the first one Mycroft actually wanted to take his time with. He was more than happy with that thought.

Mycroft flushed an even deeper colour, but sighed inwardly. Greg was right in that respect. Mycroft had never taken his time with a partner. If he wasn’t in heat, he was just a man with needs and more often than not there was another man with needs out there as well. For him, sex had been something that felt good, but didn’t necessarily mean anything. As Greg said, it was just to scratch and itch. Now was different though.

“I’ve never had a partner who actually cared enough to do so with… I’ve never wanted one until now either.” He murmured as he began to explore Greg’s chest with his hands. The Alpha’s skin was tanner than his own, his hands contrast in colour against Greg’s biceps. The Omega then leaned in to kiss Greg’s neck again, this time tracing the muscles with his lips down to the man’s collarbone before nipping at the skin. His hands wandered, touching all he could.

He hadn’t really ever done this, not even as a teen. His ambitions to rise above his family’s plans for him had started early and he had been busy becoming the best he could be and had experimented very little. Eventually he’d had time to branch out a little, but never so much to indulge in a proper relationship or a snog on the sofa for that matter. Now he was really experiencing it for the first time and he was in his middle age and seven months pregnant. To many, that would probably seem a good bit backwards.

The Omega didn’t let it get to him though, sliding up and kissing Greg full on the lips again. It was very nice, though with his cock straining in his trousers, he hoped things wouldn’t be _too_ slow. The man ran his hands down Greg’s sides, feeling his ribs before slipping over the man’s middle and down to his crotch, gently palming the bulge in the other man’s trousers with one hand as the other settled on Greg’s waist.

Mycroft really was something else, man his age blushing like that. Greg had to hide his fond smile in Mycroft’s neck, knowing the man was self-conscious about things like that. Did him good to hide his soft expression to learn that Mycroft had never let himself have a proper relationship. Greg understood the whole sense of duty, but having one’s needs taken care of didn’t necessarily mean being cared for and it broke his heart a little.

But then he was finally being touched and Mycroft’s lips found that sensitive spot on his neck and Greg let himself get distracted. He rumbled appreciatively while sliding his hand back around Mycroft’s neck to stroke the fine hairs at his nape. “See? ‘S nice,” he sighed, free hand rubbing firm circles in Mycroft’s thigh. At the feel of teeth Greg full on moaned with a shudder, practically melting.

He could lose himself to that, to Mycroft’s gentle exploring. But when Mycroft upped the ante a bit, Greg found himself not willing to complain. He rocked against Mycroft’s hand and nipped at the man’s plush bottom lip. A slight reprimand for impatience or a bid for more, hell if Greg knew. But he couldn’t deny that it didn’t feel bloody good too, when the kiss turned dirty and possessive, or the way Mycroft felt under his palm when Greg reciprocated by firmly pressing down against Mycroft’s erection beneath his loose fitted trousers. Made him start to wonder why he wanted to slow things at all. Yet at the same time he remembered that they were grown, middle aged men and as appealing as it was to have a good shag on the sofa, it just wasn’t practical.

“So,” he said thickly and breathless when he forced himself from Myc’s mouth. “We going to continue to snog like teenagers on the couch or...?” He nodded towards Mycroft’s bedroom. They had to face the facts, they weren’t young and with Mycroft’s condition, some things were best left in fantasies.

Not that Greg minded snogging on the sofa, but kneeling as he was, his knees were starting to ache and he wasn’t going to get Mycroft naked and begging for it in their respective positions. There was also something to say about leaving a trail of clothing from one room to another, at least Greg thought so.

Mycroft made a small disappointed noise when Greg pulled away but it seemed to be for a good cause. He’d been enjoying what they were doing, his face red and his breath coming out as slight pants. He’d made a few soft noises into Greg’s mouth when the Alpha had pressed against his erection, which had only increased his need. Composing himself, he nodded, a little breathless.

“I think the bedroom sounds reasonable. I fear one of us might get hurt if we were to stay on the sofa.” For the time being at least. He could think of several comfortable positions that he wouldn’t be against trying that could be executed on a sofa, but for the moment, the bed seemed best. They were doing this slow and right and for whatever reason, the bed just seemed more right for this.

As awkward as it was, Mycroft pressed another kiss to Greg’s lips before struggling up off the couch, annoyed that he just couldn’t get up with ease and pull Greg up along with him. He made a pained noise and pressed his hands to his back with a grimace. Lovely. If this wasn’t a bit of a mood killer he didn’t know what was. He turned to Greg, ignoring his aching back and offering the man half a smile.

“I don’t suppose that we could arrange for this to start on the bed next time, could we?” He mused, letting out a long breath. Perhaps he should have just waited for Greg to stand and help him up. That would have been a smoother transition. However, it hadn’t killed the mood completely, the bulge in his trousers even more visible now that he was standing. “So, bedroom?”

Greg nodded, chuckling. Some of the sweet burn had died down a bit, but it was still there. Now a low simmer, but that was alright. Mycroft wasn’t asking for a rain check and Greg was still definitely interested in getting them to the bedroom. Though as his eyes raked over Mycroft and the promise of something more than just a shag, it would take a call from the Met to make Greg lose his arousal.

“What, we’re going to start planning this now are we?” he teased, but he was at least sliding his arm around Mycroft’s back to support him, his other hand right under Mycroft’s stomach to alleviate some of the weight. Well, that’s what he aimed for but it was as good a chance as any to free Mycroft’s shirt from his trousers and work the buttons free.

“Or maybe next time I’ll pull the couch out. Add a few more pillows. I like the idea of ravishing you where I sleep, your scent soaked into the leather and fabric.” It came out as a low growl in the back of his throat, Mycroft’s scent right under his nose and the man’s warmth bleeding into his skin doing just the trick to keep Greg definitely interested even as the transition from parlour to bedroom. He also managed the bonus of getting his shoes off and Mycroft’s shirt on the floor before they reached the bedroom. It felt like staking a claim.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow and smirked, leaning in to kiss Greg’s shoulder as he listened to the man talk. He wouldn’t be against that. In fact, he rather understood it. His own room had smelt of Greg and sex for the whole week after they’d last done such things, an if it hadn’t been for the emotional repercussions they had been dealing with, he was fairly sure he would have enjoyed that scent.

Still, once they were in his room again, his shirt off before he could even think, something came to a grinding halt in his mind. He didn’t show it, but yet again, he was extremely aware of his stretch marks. They were bigger and angrier looking than the last time Greg had seen them and while this time he didn’t worry that the Alpha might think ill of them, he still felt rather vulnerable about them. They were a source of discomfort for him and he didn’t like them out in the open. They itched more in open air too. Ignoring this small discomfort, he returned his attention fully to Greg, kissing his Adam’s apple as he did his best to press his hips against the other mans.

It was nowhere near as rough as last time, Mycroft progressing with careful, explorative kisses and touches. He took pleasure how he could to of course, his groin pressed against Greg’s, adding the sweet singe of pleasure to every touch. The man slid his hands down Greg’s chest, pausing to rub his thumbs over the dark pink nubs of the other man’s nipples as he nipped up Greg’s throat before recapturing his mouth. The Omega then slide his tongue in, exploring and memorising it this times, tasting Greg’s mouth. He wanted to know and taste and feel every bit of Greg that he could now that he was getting into it. He wouldn’t be able to stand long but he would do what he could to do so for as long as he could.

Greg couldn’t remember the last time he gave himself to the wandering hands of another lover. With women, in his experience, he was always the one bestowing the attention, spoiling as much as he could. The same had been for Mycroft before the poor man decided that he actually wanted to try something new. Like actually adding the word ‘foreplay’ into his personal dictionary. By all means, Greg was happy to indulge. Especially since Mycroft seemed to know exactly where to touch and how, almost right from the start. Now he was the spoiled one.

“You seriously have been holding out on the rest of the world you know that?” Greg broke the kiss to mouth at the constellations of freckles on Mycroft’s shoulder and clavicle in a bid to catch his breath for a second before capturing Mycroft’s mouth again.

All the while his greedy hands ran up Mycroft’s body, sought out the places that made Mycroft moan or sigh, though mindful to not let his fingers linger too much on the marks to make Mycroft self-conscious. When Mycroft did jerk from Greg’s fingers tracing over the indentations of the marks, he gentled the kiss as an apology and diverted his touch elsewhere. He had plenty to for his hands to do anyways, like slide them under Mycroft’s pants to find the warm globes of his arse that were begging for attention, he felt. Or more importantly, Mycroft’s entrance that quivered under the pad of Greg’s finger when he stroke between the cheeks to find out how wet Mycroft was.

This was to say, very wet and very needy and Greg’s legs almost buckled just from the feel while Mycroft didn’t seem like he was going to be upright for much longer. Still keeping up the deep kiss, tongues entwined and making Greg’s blood simmer under his veins, he slowly lead Mycroft to the bed until the man could sit. It meant he had to slide his hands out of Mycroft’s trousers and break the lip lock, but the reward was being able to look down at Mycroft’s dishevelled form and knew that Mycroft’s wrecked look was all because of him. If he thought he could get away with it, he would take a picture.

“God you look good.”

Mycroft was pleased with how Greg was reacting to his touches and was thoroughly enjoying how he was being touched in return. The Alpha’s hands tracing over his skin as they kissed and only once did they stray to the marks on his belly. He couldn’t help reacting a little poorly to that, but Greg moved off quickly and for that, he was grateful.

Especially the since the man’s hands seemed to have a better place to be, sliding under his pants and trousers to cup his buttocks and tease his hole. Mycroft breath hitched and his legs wobbled, noticing that Greg was having a similar reaction as they were being lead to the bed and soon he was sitting down, having Greg looking down at him hungrily. Mycroft leaned back onto his elbows, a small smile gracing his lips.

“I’m glad you think so.. As for me, you must remember I’ve always appreciated your form, now in particular.” His eyes grazed over Greg’s body as he wet his kiss swollen lips with his tongue. He’d always been admiring of Greg’s body, still toned from his days in the field, but slightly soft from the days since. It was a good combination and Mycroft’s cock strained in his trousers at the sight of Greg looking a good bit tousled himself.

The tan skin, the scruffy, attractively messy silver hair, the firm muscles hidden under softer edges; yes, Mycroft could look at Gregory Lestrade all day if it weren’t for his persistent arousal pushing him forward. Mycroft bit his lip for a moment.

“Would you mind getting down here with me so I can touch you?”

Greg widened his stance a bit, letting Mycroft get his fill. He had right to be smug, near fifty and still looked almost as good as he did back in his rugby days. No shame in being proud in that and he certainly liked the way Mycroft appreciated all the hard, physical activity of his youth. And he had to laugh like the shit he was at Mycroft’s demand without actually moving.

“Well, I was thinking of taking off my trousers,” he said, hooking his thumbs in the waistline to force them down his hips slightly. “But if you absolutely need me on the bed right now, I suppose that could wait. Seeing as how you seem to need to get your hands on me right this minute.” It probably wasn’t good to goad a demanding pregnant Omega, but Greg couldn’t help it.

“I believe I can remedy this dilemma.” Mycroft smirked as he pinned Greg with a look and a raised eyebrow before going against all convention and sitting up with a grunt, leaning forward over his belly. He then proceeded to unbutton and pull down the zip of Greg’s trousers before pushing them down completely along with his pants, letting the man’s cock spring free. Satisfied, he pulled Greg down beside him onto the bed by the waist, grinning like a cat. This part he was good at.

The Omega kissed Greg fiercely, dragging his hand across Greg’s thighs before cupping his balls carefully in one hand and rolling them gently in hand. He then pulled back so Greg could see his face. The look was all challenge before he pushed back in and kissed and nipped at Greg’s neck.

Greg arched a brow to Mycroft’s statement, his brows climbing a little higher when the Omega sat back up even though it obviously wasn’t easy. He had to bite his tongue though to keep himself from telling Mycroft to not hurt himself, but as he quickly took control of the situation. Greg found himself unable to comment at all. It can be said that he rather liked Mycroft being pushy.

Though Christ he was not expecting to be hauled onto the bloody bed. Greg fell with an undignified yelp and a mind to reprimand Mycroft for taking such a risk, but Mycroft didn’t get him a chance before pouncing. A shocked moan shot out of him from the onslaught of Mycroft’s sweet mouth and clever, clever fingers, his body jolting like he had struck a live wire. Likewise he seemed to have lost control of his limbs, just lying there like an idiot, stunned and turned on so bloody badly it hurt.

Mycroft pulled off with a look that would rival the devil’s, giving Greg the chance to breathe out, “Oh sweet Jesus,” before that sweet mouth was on his neck. With teeth. Groaning deep and desperate, Greg finally remembered that he had hands and that he could use them.

“Bloody hell. I think I’ve created a monster.” If his voice cracked while he rubbed his hands up Mycroft’s body then down back to his gorgeous bum, hopefully Mycroft wouldn’t call him out on it. But that, God that was why everyone, why Greg, mistook Mycroft for an Alpha cause when he wanted to take charge, “Oh God! And I thought I was the biter!” Mycroft most certainly knew how to take charge.

“Nonsense, you’re just giving me the chance to enjoy myself.” Mycroft purred against Greg’s skin. He was still in his pants and trousers which were starting to get a little uncomfortable for him. Removing his hands from Greg’s body for a moment to shimmy out of them and kick them away as they were only an obstacle at this point.

Once they were gone and his body was bare, the Omega’s hands returned to the Alpha’s frame, his fingers running over Greg’s chest and nipples as he pressed his hips forward to rut their cocks together. His mouth seemed to fix itself to the other man’s collarbone, worrying a little red mark there with his teeth and tongue.

Let it never be said that Mycroft Holmes wasn’t a fast learner and to be completely honest, he found this rather enjoyable. To have Greg reacting to every touch, kiss, nip; he loved it. It was a whole side of sex he had never bothered with and now he was realising his mistake. Because it seemed sex could actually be fun. Grinning against the DI’s skin, he let up on Greg’s collarbone to trace the man’s jawline with his lips and tongue.

“No really,” Greg croaked while finally having the mind to kick off his own trousers, wrapped as they had been around his ankles. “I created a monster. You look power hungry, you do.” It seemed once Mycroft was over his own inhibitions, he was more than happy to feast on Greg, and in a literal sense considering all the bite marks Greg was going to sport later. It wasn’t that he was really complaining, just a bit bowled over by it.

Greg whimpered like a poor sod when his comment seemed to spur Mycroft to bite harder, making Greg involuntarily buck their hips together, which in turn pulled a helpless moan from him. Past two exploits he had taken such lovely pleasure from making Mycroft beg for it, but it looked like the tables had been turned on him.

Karma, that was what it was, he was suffering Karma cause each bite, lick, contact to his cock, every little thing made him writhe and throb. And while he had told Mycroft that they would take it slow, he hadn’t expected all that and not even his stamina could hold out. He’d be embarrassed by how close he was to begging had he cared. Not that the sounds he was making were positively pleas for more. He ignored that bit.

“Though by no means am I complaining,” he moaned when Mycroft zeroed in on another sensitive spot, good Lord he really was a fast learner, but he wasn’t about to just take it either. He carded his fingers through Mycroft’s hair, his elbow serving as a pillow for Mycroft’s head, while he went back to his fixation on Mycroft’s arse. But he didn’t settle for teasing or groping that time, no it was time to up the ante. He let his fingers press against Mycroft’s perineum, slide through the glorious slick, then went straight to pressing the tip of his index finger against Mycroft’s hole and in to see if he could entice Mycroft to speed things along a bit.

Mycroft groaned as Greg’s hand travelled down, his breath hitching as the man pressed against and stroked his most sensitive parts, his hands momentarily forgetting what they we doing. He bit his lip to hold back another moan before leaning his head in and softly kissing the inside of Greg’s neck as though to say ‘please’. As much as he was loving the touching and kissing, the urge to revert to his Omega tendencies and have something inside him, filling him came to the fore. His cheeks flushed pink, he pressed down against Greg’s hand before glancing up.

“So… how are we going to do this this time?” He murmured, his breath warm. His hands were splayed over Greg’s ribs just as something to hold on to, to keep contact. His stomach was large and bulky between them and he didn’t want to go through all the fuss of the pillows and rearranging that they had done last time, but he still wanted to be comfortable.

The change in tactics made him feel a little more open and vulnerable again, because it reminded him that this was about them. He’d already found a new enjoyment in sex, exploring Greg’s body with his senses, but now that it got right down to it, he realised he wanted to be more intimate with Greg. The last time had been rougher, faster, with little touching other than Greg pounding into him. This time, he wanted contact. Wanted Greg to hold him and kiss him as they fu- no… he didn’t want to fuck, he realised. What he wanted was to make love, slow and soft and close. He still didn’t know what that meant to him, but he wanted it. And, with the hope he could somehow convey that, he kissed Greg softly and slowly on the lips.

Greg reviewed other possible positions in his head; though it was the sweet, heaven help him, so sweet kiss. While they had been gentler, softer even, that kiss had a different note to it and Greg immediately knew what he wanted. What they were going to do. While the position in mind meant that kissing might be a strain, he had promised slow and he wanted Mycroft to know what it was like to feel wholly taken cared of during sex. Cherished even.

Greg gave Mycroft a last, tender kiss, before pulling away, though he obliged to the Omega’s needs by pumping his finger in and out in a gentle, easy rhythm meant to stimulate but not much more.

“Mind if we change things up a bit from our seemingly usual? I have a position in mind that should be a lot more comfortable and you won’t even have to move much from where you’re at now,” he said. He did fear it might be too intimate, but after that kiss and the look in Mycroft’s eyes, Greg wasn’t so sure anymore. He got the feeling that Mycroft wouldn’t have any objections.

The Omega’s breathe shuddered as Greg pressed a finger into his tight, wet hole, the muscles stretching only slightly. Greg obviously was thinking of what they could do, giving Mycroft a little stimulation in the meantime. Mycroft wasn’t complaining though he really needed more.

“Then by all means, show me what you have in mind.” Mycroft replied quietly, wondering what Greg was thinking of. He seemed to have gotten his point across though, noting that there was something soft about the way Greg was now looking at him. One of Mycroft’s hands slide down to rest gently on Greg’s hip for the time being as he wasn’t sure what else to do with it.

It was still all so foreign to him, this want to be truly intimate and close to someone. To put his trust in that they would know what to do and know how to make him feel good. He’d never had someone take care of him before, thanks to his refusal to be treated like the soft pathetic things most Omegas were by nature. Now, with Greg, he realised he didn’t mind so much. Not at all.

Greg leaned up for a tender kiss to distract Mycroft while he pulled his hand free. He knew how much Mycroft needed to be penetrated, not even Mycroft could completely ignore his instincts, but the kiss was a promise that Greg did understand that fact.

“Scootch a bit closer to the middle. Get comfortable but stay on your side,” he ordered as he pushed himself out of bed. Without explaining his actions Mycroft was likely confused, but Greg didn’t dawdle either. As soon as Mycroft got himself comfortable Greg slid back into bed behind him. He quickly had the mind to get two fingers where Mycroft needed them the most while wrapping his arm over the Omega’s chest.

“Think you can handle it like this? Still can’t see your face, but it’s promised to not be a lot of strain on you. Should feel real good, actually,” he said, pushing up a bit on his elbow so his mouth was at Mycroft’s ear, partly able to see his face. He scissored his fingers as he talked, stimulating and a bit of a tease, just to keep Mycroft right on that edge of desperation so Greg didn’t leave him wanting.

And yeah, maybe so Mycroft didn’t fully understand that the position would mean they couldn’t rush. Leverage wouldn’t be great so it would always be slow and deep, just how Greg had always wanted make love to the man. And it was a coward’s position too, for Greg, since Mycroft wouldn’t be able to read his face, just how like last time he had used the position to hide how he truly, honestly felt for Mycroft. As if it wasn’t already obvious.

Mycroft brows furrowed but he did what he was told, shimming across the blankets to the middle, his hands going to rest on his stomach as he no longer had Greg’s body to put them on. The baby was calm he noticed. She often seemed to stop moving around whenever he was in a sexual mind-set which, honestly, made things a lot less awkward for him.

Then Greg went around the bed, making Mycroft crane his neck to see him, wondering what exactly the Alpha was doing. His question was answered as he felt Greg’s warmth blanketed against his back and he was able to relax. He wouldn’t be able to see Greg’s face, but it was a good position. Close. He liked that.

The Omega groaned when Greg’s fingers slipped back inside him, barely registering what Greg was saying. He just trusted Greg to do things right as he pressed his arse back on Greg’s digits, his muscles clenching around them. This was going to be a slow session and as much as he often craved fast and hard, he was ready to try something different.

“I’m… perfectly comfortable like this.” He let out a short breath. “And I want this. Please. I’m ready.” He murmured softly, not sure what else to say. He wanted Greg to get on with it but he also didn’t want to rush things. If that made sense.

Greg kissed the back of Mycroft’s neck as he pulled his fingers out and wiped them on the bedspread. He didn’t further tease Mycroft either, swiftly shuffling in place and taking himself in hand. But he oddly didn’t feel urgent. God he wanted Mycroft, no doubt about that, but there was no feeling of desperation or rush, lending him the mentality to guide himself home slowly, in full control of himself as he rocked his hips up and ease himself inside.

“Yeah God,” he breathed against Mycroft’s skin as he continued to fill Mycroft to the root while wrapping his arms around Mycroft in a comfortable position. One hand splayed across Mycroft’s chest to feel the rapid race of his heart, the other around his waist to grasp onto Mycroft’s hip, Greg’s nose right up against Mycroft’s neck just breathing in his scent and buried to the hilt, so tight and snug. Greg felt like a genius for thinking of the position because nothing, nothing could feel better than that.

Mycroft bit his lip, moaning into his own mouth as Greg penetrated him, slow and steady and leaving him breathless. His muscles contracted around the Alpha’s cock as he panted. The man taking him slowly was really overwhelming, filling with him the gradually growing burn of pleasure. The man let out a soft moan when Greg finally pushed in to the hilt, Mycroft pressing back so that his arse was pushed up against Greg’s pelvis.

Greg’s arm was warm around him, his hand on his chest and Mycroft found himself reaching up and grasping the DI’s fingers between his own to give himself something to hold on. He swallowed thickly, adjusting around Greg’s cock before urging him forward. It was a slightly awkward position, offering little friction like this, but it was close and tender, with Greg at his back, and it provided the contact he needed. He leaned against Greg, pressing his freckled back to the other man’s chest.

“Gregory… God… please move.. I need you.” He managed, squeezing Greg’s hand and taking a few deep breaths.

Greg moaned in agreement, helpless against Mycroft’s pleas. He then tightened his grip on Mycroft then rolled his hips back and forth, groaning at the sweet slide in and out of Mycroft’s body. And it was good, great, but he felt like it wouldn’t be enough for Mycroft, didn’t think he could quite get to that sweet spot.

“We’re going to try something, okay?” Greg panted against Mycroft’s neck, his mouth pressed right against the skin so he could taste the sharp bite of Mycroft’s sweat. It was like a furnace between them, fire lapping at their bodies despite the chill from the aircon.

Greg then gently pulled Mycroft’s top leg back a bit, careful to gauge his reactions, while he pumped his hips forward to fill Mycroft again. He could feel the difference, and from what he could tell, it made a difference on Mycroft too. It made the entry tighter, made him go deeper, hopefully deep enough to hit Mycroft’s prostate. Greg was all for trying that position again later, but he had to make sure it was just as good for the Omega.

“Yeah, Christ, does that feel good? Tell me how you feel, Mycroft. Tell me what feels good. God I want this to be good for you.” Greg’s stuttered his hips up; helpless against the need to thrust, cause that really was perfect for him. Mycroft just felt exquisite.

Mycroft let out a muffled moan when Greg lifted his leg and leaned his head back against the other man’s shoulder. The shift allowed Greg to get better purchase, as well as letting him push in deeper and it left Mycroft gasping and panting. Each slow thrust was delicious.

“Perfect.. God… yes.” He managed, breathless. He could feel Greg’s heartbeat against his back, feel the warmth of Greg’s body seeping into his. He could feel every slide of the Alpha’s cock inside him, occasionally nudging his prostate with his strokes. Mycroft squeezed down from time to time to increase the friction and pleasure of each thrust.

“It feels good. Amazing. You feel perfect inside of me… God, please don’t stop.” The Omega reached back with his free hand, sliding it under the side of Greg’s and managing to thread his fingers into the other man’s silvery hair. He rocked back as best he could to the slower rhythm, breathing with heavy, pleasured grunts.

“Gregory, I- Oh, God… I never knew how amazing this… this would be.” He finally murmured, clutching at Greg’s hand again.

Greg chuckled breathlessly against the nape of Mycroft’s neck, nuzzling his face against the short hairs though in a bid to arch up into Mycroft’s hand. He was feeling as giddy as a school boy, Mycroft’s wonder doing as much for Greg as the tight, hot clench around his cock was. He loved sex like that, intimate and deep where it was more about the people involved than the needs of their bodies.

“Maybe it’ll convince you to keep me around longer,” he teased, giving Mycroft’s fingers a squeeze with a particularly languid thrust in and out, moaning gutturally at the drag of velvet soft skin around him. “Just think of all the things this debauched old man can come up with in the future.” While Greg had never thought himself with any real sexual prowess or anything like that, he was certainly feeling smug right then. Smug and in awe that he literally was the first one to see Mycroft like that. It went straight to his ego and heart, making him grateful of every single moment. It was a gift.

There really was nothing better than that, sweat slicked bodies moving in tandem, the feel of Mycroft quivering in his arms. The only thing that would make it better would be if Greg could see his face. Then again, with the taut pull of anticipation burning in his gut, the back of his thighs, that sharp sensation of being close, actually seeing how he affected Mycroft might just be too much. It felt like it would be too much and Greg was enjoying himself far too much for it to be over yet.

Mycroft didn’t really know how to answer that right off the bat and if he tried he’d probably say something stupid in his current state of pleasure. He knew he wanted Greg to stay around, especially times like these, but he didn’t know if it would stay that way. They were at a happy medium for the moment and he wasn’t going to ruin that.

The Omega closed his eyes, breathing open mouthed, sweat dappling his brow. His skin was flushed and tight, warm with the light exertion  and shared body heat. Pleasure was thrumming through him and he found that he was enjoying himself, loving how close Greg was, practically wrapped around him, his lips on his neck. He was getting closer rather quickly, which surprised him. It seemed that hard, rough pleasure wasn’t the only thing that could bring a man to the edge. It seemed that tender touches and leisurely thrusts could do much the same. True, it drew it out some, but it was making it all the sweeter.

“Gregory…” The elder Holmes made a soft keening noise, his hand in Greg’s hair tightening a little as the Alpha began to stroke his prostate more definitely. Pleasure buzzed through him, hot and needy and sweet. The man was met with a small orgasm that only built up to the impending finish, causing his muscles to clench. He tipped his head back again, trying to catch a glimpse of Greg’s face. He almost said he wanted to see the man, but that would mean interrupting what they were doing to turn around. He did want to see Greg’s face, but there was always another time.

Greg lost his rhythm when Mycroft clenched around him, the orgasm rocking through them both. His breath hitched sharply in his throat, forcing him to snap his eyes shut. He knew it was just a small climax, the beautiful thing about Omegas, that, but feeling it roll through Mycroft almost did Greg in. But not yet, God not yet.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he breathed, sliding the hand on Mycroft’s waist down to gently cup his cock, careful to not over stimulate him. Greg nuzzled against the side of Mycroft’s neck, hips perfectly still to let Mycroft ride through the small wave, simply taking pleasure in just that. “God that’s gorgeous. I love feeling that, I really do.”

When he felt Mycroft could take it, he moved his fingers in light circles over the slick head of Mycroft’s cock then started to move again, shallow, deep strokes while Mycroft was still tight and quivering. Absolutely marvellous. “How many times you think I can get you to do that before you’re done, huh? How many times do you think I can make you come, Mycroft?”

Mycroft had no idea how long he could last, with the way Greg was talking, his voice gruff in his ear. The Omega was making a series of soft gasping noises, his eyes closed and his breath warm as the Alpha claimed him slowly. His muscles tensed and he couldn’t suppress a moan as Greg cupped his prick, his senses singing. He bucked a little against Greg’s hand until he could breathe again.

“I…” Mycroft swallowed thickly, trying to gather his wits about him. “Once or twice more.. Maybe… maybe three times, but I’m not sure I have that kind of stamina... God, not like this.” He managed, tugging lightly at Greg’s hair. The man pushed back against the Alpha’s thrusts, gasps and moans catching in his throat. With the baby pushing down on his organs, he didn’t actually know how long he could last. He just knew he felt good.

The Omega started bucking into Greg’s hand again, between each push back onto the other man’s cock. He could feel the swell of another orgasm growing, probably another small one, but they were only bringing him closer. “Gregory… could… could you go a little harder? I know you don’t want to rush, but God, I need you.”

There went the last of Greg’s resolve. He buried his face against Mycroft’s back with a wordless groan of affirmation while straining the muscles in his thighs and lower back to comply. It wasn’t the pounding Mycroft probably needed, but short, fast strokes that left Greg trembling and hurtling to the edge way too bloody quick. He gripped Mycroft’s prick firmly, giving him jerky sharp tugs in the hope it was what he wanted. Needed.

“Yeah, oh fuck, what...” Greg moaned again as a shock of pure bliss shot up his spine, making his balls draw in tight and his breath rattle in his throat. “Whatever you want. God Mycroft.” He should be able to hold on. Should be able to  tease and torment Mycroft a little longer, but there was no disillusion who was really in control regardless of gender. Mycroft asked so Greg gave. It pretty much summed up their entire relationship.

When it came down to it though, Greg lost the fight before he even realized there was one. He didn’t know what tipped him over whether it was another tug to his hair, the way Mycroft tightened around him suddenly on an upstroke or the way he said Greg’s name. Maybe it was all of the above that had him muffling his grunt against Mycroft’s shoulder and gave himself up to his own pleasure. Either way, it was the closeness between them, the intimacy that filled with complete and utter satisfaction more than the orgasm itself. It was how he felt sex should always feel. He couldn’t remember the last time he had actually had that.

Mycroft achieved another small orgasm before Greg came, which may have been part of what made the other man tip over the edge so quickly. Mycroft bit his lip and let the Alpha ride out his climax. He was close and still rock hard, but he found he wasn’t actually that bothered that Greg had come before him. They’d been intimate and close and that was enough. Well, almost. Sitting so close to the edge after your partner had finished still tended to be a little frustrating.

“Gregory… Could.. well..” He thrust into Greg’s hand once the man’s orgasm seemed to have passed, seemingly leaving him a little blissed out. Mycroft would live if Greg proved not to be up to it, but somehow he doubted the man would leave him in such a state. The elder Holmes had, rather unfortunately, been left wanting in past sexual encounters before, but this was Greg. This was about trust and closeness and feeling good. Greg would take care of him.

He wanted to turn over, he had for a while now, wanting to see Greg’s face. He’d never even thought about it before, wanting to see someone’s face during a sexual act unless it was to gauge a reaction. But now he’d genuinely wanted see Greg’s face to see him came apart. Maybe next time. Trusting up again, he released Greg’s right hand and shifted it down to his left where it was grasping his cock and pressed, giving Greg no doubt about what he wanted.

Greg shook himself of the post orgasm euphoric fog when he felt Mycroft pushing his hand down meaningfully and found Mycroft still hard as a rock and writhing demandingly. It hit him like ice water to realise that Mycroft had given him exactly as Greg asked while he had gone and lost his load without properly taking care of Mycroft first. He felt like such a shit.

“Oh Christ. I’m so sorry Myc.” Greg wrapped his hand firmer around Mycroft and started pumping him in earnest, rewarded with appreciative sounds. But it felt inadequate, to bring Mycroft off like that when Greg had wanted to make it perfect and not cheap or meaningless. Not to mention he could be a little greedy in this, giving Mycroft what he wanted while being able to watch him come undone for once. That was definitely decided then.

He planted an apologetic kiss on Mycroft’s shoulder as he slipped out, the hand on Mycroft’s chest pushing down lightly to steady him for the empty sensation. “Not done with you yet just...” He slipped his arm from under Mycroft, biting his bottom lip at the sudden onslaught of pins and needles, but he didn’t let that slow him down.

He stacked the pillows haphazardly then reached for Mycroft’s arm. “Come on, it will be better if you sit up a bit instead of lying on your back. Just bear with me, I promise I’ll get you off with more than just a quick hand job.” At the point Mycroft was at, he could probably care less so as long as he came but Greg’s guilt wasn’t going to let Mycroft settle for a clumsy fumbling even if his own body was protesting over having to move when all he wanted was to slump into lethargy and enjoy the electric tingle of pleasure that still buzzed under his skin.

“Gregory, it’s fine, I just need a little stimulation…” Mycroft bemoaned after making a soft noise of disapproval when Greg not only pulled out released his hold on the Omega’s cock as well. Just when he’d started bringing the elder Holmes right to the edge too. Mycroft would have been perfectly happy to come in Greg’s hands, but, with a sigh, he went along with whatever Greg had planned. The man hadn’t led him wrong yet.

The lack of stimulus and the interruption in positions brought the Omega back from the edge of climax a little, but, with luck, it wouldn’t stay that way for long. Mycroft shifted sitting up on the pillow Greg had stacked for him, his hands resting atop his belly and his legs spread. There were a number of things Greg could have in mind and Mycroft wanted to give him access to as many of those options as he could.

The movement allowed him to get a good look at Greg’s face, which was flushed and a little ashamed looking, most likely over the fact that he’d forgotten Mycroft’s needs in his moment of passion, but he held what Mycroft could only describe as enjoyment in his eyes. Mycroft wet his lips, eyes once again grazing of Greg’s form, smirking as he caught a glimpse of black ink over Greg’s shoulder when he moved. He rather hoped he could get a better look at the tattoo at some point, but now wasn’t the time.

Oh now there was a sight; Mycroft spread out on the bed, covered in a light sheen of sweat and drenched in the scents of sex. Greg didn't dare linger though, instead quickly climbing back on the bed between Mycroft's legs, his hands smoothing up Mycroft's ankles to his thighs as he went. He did worry a little that Mycroft might think he was just trying to prove something as an Alpha but that wasn't the case at all. He promised to show Mycroft that sex wasn’t all about getting off and he bloody well meant it.

"I plan on giving you more than a little stimulation. I promised to take care of you and I'm not going to do a half arsed job of it," Greg said gruffly while rubbing his hands over Mycroft’s thighs before pushing at them to coax Mycroft bend his knees a little. Once he had Mycroft open to him, Greg didn’t waste any more time.

Greg ran his hands up Mycroft’s legs from knee to thighs with reverent appreciation, enjoying the feel of lightly furred, heated muscle under his palms. He flicked his eyes up to meet Mycroft’s keen gaze for a brief second before finally lowering his head to take Mycroft’s prick in his mouth. Though spent and too old to even think about another go, Greg still moaned as the firm flesh slid over his tongue, Mycroft’s sharp musk heavy and heady.

This wasn’t something he did often; Mycroft was the second man Greg had ever given head to and the first back in Uni. It had never really been something he craved. But he had Mycroft trembling beneath him, making such soft sounds and God, the feel of him as Greg bobbed up and down slowly to find his rhythm. It didn’t matter that he didn’t crave it before; he certainly craved it then just because it was Mycroft.

Mycroft watched Greg slide up between his legs, the DI’s hands running over his thighs. The way Greg was moving, he had an idea where this was going to go and he rather found he liked that direction. The Alpha then caught his eyes for a single moment before enveloping Mycroft’s cock in his mouth and the Omega moaned, his hands having to slid down and grip the sheets if only to have something to hold onto. Oh, God this man’s mouth.

Mycroft had been on the receiving end of a blowjob on numerous occasions and he could tell that Greg was inexperienced to an extent. Mycroft didn’t really mind though and the fact that he was doing it at all was admirable to Mycroft for his own reasons. Mycroft was partial to getting sucked off; he usually just preferred hard and hungry fucking, but this… The fact that this was Greg moaning softly around his prick and beginning to slide his lips and tongue up and down it is what made it so amazing.

“God, Greg…” The man tilted his head back, panting and keening as he forced himself not to grab Greg’s hair and push his mouth down around his cock. The last thing he wanted to do was choke the Alpha, and besides, this was about Greg taking care of him, so he was going to let the man do just that. The elder Holmes looked back down watching his prick sliding in and out of Greg’s mouth and almost lost it right there. He could hold on for a little while longer, but not too much. Not like this.

Greg drank in the sounds that Mycroft made, feeling like he could get drunk off of them. The way Mycroft's tightly wound control shattered because of Greg's mouth, the way he flicked his tongue over the glans or swallowed around the fat prick down his throat, that could really get addictive. But Greg was kind too, knew not to torment the man. Well, not too much.

He did feel especially kind though when he shoved his hand between Mycroft's thighs when Greg senses the Omega was getting close. Though the angle was awkward, he got a hot rush of liquid pleasure shooting down his spine at the way Mycroft reacted to having his balls fondled. Greg made a mental note to explore that later then moved his hand down further.

As he rubbed two fingers over Mycroft slick and swollen hole, Greg slid his mouth almost all the way off until only the tapered head was between his lips. His tongue flicked languidly in time to his circular motions, just rubbing and spreading the slick of their combined fluids until Mycroft was shaking for it. Then finally, his eyes firmly locked on Mycroft's flushed, red face, Greg pushed two fingers in while sliding his mouth back down over the firm shaft. His own body shuddered at the clenching velvet heat around his fingers and the feel of Mycroft's twitching cock on his tongue. It was seriously pure bliss.

Mycroft’s breath caught as Greg lapped at the sensitive skin, unable to hold back a bit of a whimper as he fisted the sheets. It wasn’t anything exotic or extravagant but it might as well be, the way Greg worked him into a moaning pile of need with his tongue and mouth. God, maybe it was because he was more sensitive because he was pregnant or something of the like, but Mycroft was approaching the end fast.

The man mewled out loud, much to his embarrassment when Greg cupped his balls for a moment and Mycroft couldn’t stop himself from thrusting up a little into Greg’s mouth. Greg’s fingers were teasing his hole, and then the DI just had the head of his cock in his mouth and was running his tongue over the sensitive tip. Mycroft could feel his balls drawing up, the heat and pleasure pooling in his belly and he knew he was close. And then Greg just had to slide his fingers inside him.

“Gregory, I’m.. I’m going to…” He tried to warn the man, out of common courtesy as sometimes people didn’t like it when others came in their mouths. He couldn’t finish his sentence though because then his climax claimed him. His muscles spasmed around Greg’s fingers as he came, the Omega letting out a long moan. He could only hope that if Greg didn’t want Mycroft to come in his mouth that he had pulled away in time, because at that moment, Mycroft didn’t even notice.

At Mycroft's warning Greg pulled off to finish Mycroft with his hand so he could properly watch the man fall apart. He barely even got his hand wrapped around Mycroft's prick, the fingers buried inside pressed against his prostate, when Mycroft lost it. His body clamped down like a vice, head tipped back and open with that pained look of pleasure during climax. If Greg was a younger man, the sight alone would have done him in.

"That's it. God that's gorgeous." Greg felt another hot rush zing through him, enough even to make his cock twitch, but he was too intent on Mycroft to care. He stroked Mycroft through his climax, relishing the slick mess in his hand, and thought himself one lucky bastard that he got to witness such a sight. "Yeah, God Myc. God."

When he felt it safe to do so, he slowly pulled his hands free and found his pants near the bed for him to clean them with. He remembered to give Mycroft a cursory sweep as well, though a shower was still in desperate need for the both of them, then joined Mycroft at the head of the bed. He couldn't keep the stupid smile off his face.

"Still complaining that all you needed was a little stimulation?" He teased, still breathless though now more from the wonder of being with Mycroft than exertion, then leaned up for a kiss.

Mycroft shuddered as he was stroked through his climax, his heart racing as he gripped the sheets for dear life. He couldn’t even find words. He didn’t know what it was about this man that did this to him, but he was glad for it. Slowly, but surely, he came down from the pleasure high, only barely hearing Greg’s words.

He was left panting, but he was coherent enough to feel Greg pull his hands away and all but collapsed on his back onto the pillows, letting out a warm sigh. He let out a soft murmur as Greg wiped them down. It wasn’t a wet cloth or a shower, but it would do for now. He actually just wanted to spend some time basking in the afterglow with the Alpha, so he was pleased when Greg lay down beside him again.

“Very well… I will admit that was much more pleasant than if you had just gotten me off with your hand…” He mumbled, smirking. He wasn’t particularly tired, it hadn’t been all that exhausting of a session, but he was rather blissed out, all warm, satisfied and content. He didn’t even think about it when Greg kissed him until he tasted a hint of his own bitter fluids on Greg’s lip and jerked back as though he’d been burned. It was a knee jerk reaction and only afterward did he realise how the DI might take it. “Gregory.. I didn’t mean.. I… Um.” He paused, trying to find words. This was something he had rather hoped he could avoid discussing.

And things had been going so well. Greg pulled back to give Mycroft his space, swallowing down the bright flash of hurt from rejection. He told himself it was alright though, that it was probably just too much for Mycroft. Greg forgot himself and was moving too fast, that was probably it. He got it, he really did, but it was still a bit of a blow.

“It’s fine,” he said softly, forcing himself to meet Mycroft’s eyes because avoidance was a tell in itself. His lassitude was started to dissipate though, the sweet fog of pleasure waning to remind him of the aches and pains of his aging body. Even though, he wasn’t up to moving away yet, and his hand was perfectly comfortable rubbing soothing circles over the taut skin of Mycroft’s belly.

That and Mycroft looked honestly apologetic it. Not embarrassed, not ashamed, just probably overloaded. Greg did have the tendency of getting carried away, he knew. Sex turned him into a sap, especially when it was slow and intimate. He would just have to be more careful next time and not let his emotions get the better of him. Easy as that.

Mycroft could tell that it wasn’t fine though. That had been rejection in Greg’s eyes and Mycroft didn’t blame him for that. He didn’t particularly want to explain why he’d reacted as he had, but he feared that it might lead to another misunderstanding that would only pull them apart. And he couldn’t go through that again.

“It isn’t though, is it?” He murmured, turning on his side to face the man and reacting down to take hold of the hand on his stomach. “I didn’t mean to react like that. I like kissing you, that much should have been obvious seeing how all this started out. I just.. I don’t like semen in my mouth, not even the flavour of it and I could taste myself when I kissed you and I reacted poorly. I’m sorry if it seemed like I was rejecting you. I wasn’t.”

Mycroft leaned back in and kissed both of his cheeks and, with a smirk, the tip of the man’s nose. “I like kissing you and rather hope to do it again. I just can’t seem to do it properly right after you’ve given me oral. The flavour reminds me of the rather unpleasant action of giving a blowjob in general. I love having your mouth on me and I admire you as it’s something I’ll likely never do again. I haven’t since Uni. Wasn’t that great of an experiment and I quickly learned that semen is something I could never stomach.”

Greg listened with growing bemusement. It was such a ridiculous reason, to him, that he wasn’t sure if Mycroft was just making excuses or not. It wasn’t like he had swallowed or anything, so it did seem a bit far fetch or too finicky for even Mycroft. But judging by the embarrassed flush to his cheeks he certainly looked like he was telling the truth. What a weird thing to be repulsed by, but then Greg reminded himself that it wasn’t like Mycroft could be counted as normal.

“If you say so,” he laughed with a one armed shrug while he entwined their fingers. The tension was gone though and he felt better after the silly but adorable kisses to his face. They were so close and Mycroft actually looked pleased, softened by pleasure without the cool gaze of the morning after levelled at Greg. It was a good moment. An easy moment between them, despite the hang up.

“So next time I should have a breath mint or something handy, huh?” Cause oh, he planned on doing that again if Mycroft let him. He had no compunctions so as long as everyone was left happy, even if it meant having the bitter taste of semen in his mouth. He’d even switch roles and let Mycroft have a go at him if it ever came to that, gender roles aside.

“Something like that. And again, I do apologise.” Mycroft replied, kissing Greg’s neck. He found he just wanted to touch and hold and kiss the man, which was unusual for him. He liked it though. He’d never stopped for a moment to think that he might like cuddling. Hell, before Greg, he would have never have thought he would enjoy being close to someone. He still wasn’t sure if it was just the hormones or not, but he actually sincerely hoped it wasn’t, because he liked this and losing it was something he didn’t want to do.

The Omega let out a soft sigh, scratching the side of his belly absentmindedly as he just enjoyed Greg’s closeness and company. He was glad that the man seemed to accept his explanation, because he knew how it must sound. It was true though. The taste of semen put Mycroft off completely and the simple thought of giving someone head himself was enough to make him gag. Uni had insured that that was something he would never enjoy.

Greg gently pushed Mycroft’s hand away to take over in the belly rub, thinking about the parcel that should be arriving tomorrow. He was going to have fun rubbing the cream over Mycroft’s skin, he thought. If Mycroft let him get away with it. Greg would just have to bribe him with sexual favours or peanut butter to get his way, if it came to that.

“Won’t be long now, you know,” he said softly, hiking himself up a bit so he could drag a sheet up as the sweat on their skin began to cool. He pulled it up to only cover half of Mycroft’s belly so Greg could try and catch a glimpse of her moving around. He lived in perpetual hope.

“Until our little,” he screwed his eyes up at the ceiling in thought, wondering if he should go for annoyance or a name he would actually like. He chose one that was sort of on the fence. “Sofie makes her grand appearance.”

“And while we’re hardly calling her Sofie, you’re right.” Mycroft mused, closing his eyes and letting himself sigh in contentment as Greg’s rubbed over the ache and itch of his belly. It always felt so good to have someone else do it. Well, granted, only Greg had ever done it, but he did it better than Mycroft. All Mycroft could say was that he was glad he’d opened up enough to allow Greg to do it. Two weeks without Greg’s belly and back rubs had been hell once he’d known what he was missing.

“It’s not much longer now. I go on leave from work in a few weeks. Then we only have a month before she’s born. It seems like ages away and yet, looking how quickly the time has already passed, she’ll be in our arms before we know it.” He murmured, gazing down at his stomach as Greg continued to run his hands over the tight, stretched flesh.

Their daughter seemed to know that she was being talked about and wiggled before stretching, distorting Mycroft’s stomach slightly as she did. The Omega chuckled, wincing as she then planted a sharp kick to his ribs before settling again under her father’s soothing touch. The elder Holmes glanced up and smiled at the Alpha and found himself hoping that even once she was born, that they would still have this closeness. For it was a tenderness he had never experienced and he never wanted it to stop.

Greg’s eyes popped open when he swore he saw the outline of an elbow or possibly a foot move under Mycroft’s stomach. He moved even closer until there was hardly any space left between them so he could get a better look. He then nearly jumped when he felt her foot kick up right against his hand.

“Oh I can’t decide if that’s bloody marvellous or unsettling,” he breathed, then looked up at Mycroft with a wide, amazed grin. When he caught Mycroft’s eyes, caught a softness to his eyes as if he was fond, Greg wanted nothing more than to kiss him and never stop. He felt another kick, or a punch, and gently rubbed over the slight protrusion.

“She’s going to be a storm, you know.” His voice was soft and hushed in the quiet of the room. He imagined he was close enough to hear her heartbeat entwined with Mycroft’s. “She’ll have my dashing good looks, your scary intelligence. No one will be safe.”

“Yes, I dare say she’ll be something else.” Mycroft chuckled again, finally reaching down and cupping his hand over Greg’s. “Sometimes I wonder what she’ll look like, if she’ll have your brown eyes or my blue and if she’ll inherit my auburn hair or your..” he paused, blinking at Greg’s hair. Well, it wasn’t like she would have silver hair, now would she? But he’d read Greg’s files. He knew the man’s hair had been a brunette before he’d gone grey. It was just something he didn’t really think about. “Brown. Part of me was worried that I might pass on my freckles to her, but I’ve recently been informed that freckles aren’t the curse they used to be and are apparently seen as a rather attractive feature.” He raised an eyebrow at Greg before continuing.

“Part of me worries that I won’t be a good father to her, but I suppose that’s actually a rather normal fear to have when the birth of your child is only about a month and a half away, isn’t it?” He let out a soft breath as she shifted again. He could feel almost every movement now, their little girl being rather crowded in there. She remained active regardless, sometimes to the extent that Mycroft wish there _wasn’t_ enough room, like how she’d woken him up two nights ago by battering his spleen.

“Regardless, I look forward to her arrival, even if I’m not sure I’m ready yet. Admittedly, the birth itself is a little intimidating as well but I’m fairly sure that’s also normal…” Mycroft sighed with a small smile as he ran his hand over his belly once he’d let go of Greg’s, feeling her squirm beneath. His expression softened a little more. “I already know you’re going to be an excellent father to her. I just hope, in time, I can be a good one too.”

Greg lay back down on the pillows though he was still more or less plastered to Mycroft’s side. He took the compliment to heart even though he tried not to let the frankly idiotic and surprised grin he could feel from actually forming. It wasn’t easy, considering how content he was at that moment; then again Mycroft’s doubt was a little heart breaking, so instead Greg managed a subtle smile.

“Now, can’t really know for sure, you know.” He kissed Mycroft’s shoulder, right over the freckles that he was rather fond of. “We can’t be sure how we are going to be as parents, but you’re brilliant at anything you put your mind to, so I at least, have no doubt in that department.”

His hand stroked over the firm curve until he found Mycroft’s hand again to give him a gentle squeeze. “What I do know, Myc, is that our little girl, whatever we name her be it Gwendolynne or Emma, is going to be spoiled bloody rotten. That’s the important bit, isn’t it?”

“But of course.” Mycroft grinned, squeezing Greg’s hand back. “I can guarantee our daughter will never be left wanting.” 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...ashes to ashes, we all fall down."

“Okay, so Annaliese is still in the running. I think I am starting to warm up to Emmaline...” Greg placed a kiss to the side of Mycroft’s shoulder as they were sprawled out on the sofa, Mycroft sitting in front of him getting a much deserved back rub. He could smell the sweet smell of the cocoa butter cream that he took great pleasure in rubbing into Mycroft’s stretch marks mixing with Mycroft’s natural scent. It was nice to just have a day together for once. “Though I am still pushing for Gwendolyn or even Gwennivere. They pass your whole need for old, complicated names and I’ll get to call her Gwennie. Or maybe even Ginny. Dunno yet.”

Greg had feared that Mycroft would shut him out again, that he would withdraw beneath his well-constructed barriers once the intimacy ended. It didn’t take long though to realise that he had been an idiot to be wary. They next morning they were right back to their usual domesticities, tea waiting for him when he had to push himself out of bed at fuck o'clock in the morning, along with sweet kisses and the allowance to rub Mycroft’s neck before he had to drag himself out the door. When he had returned, exhausted and wrecked with nerves thinking that he might still get shut out, Mycroft met him only with warmth. Things just fell into place after that.

Mycroft let out a soft sigh as he relaxed under Greg’s ministrations. God, he’d needed this. There wasn’t much for him to do these days, with the impending birth of their child only a month away, but that didn’t stop his back from hurting and it certainly didn’t stop his want to be around Greg as much as possible. And with so little to do, it only made him want Greg with him even more.

 It was getting rather hot out as August approached and even though the air condition in the townhouse worked perfectly, the air was still stifling and Mycroft did what he could to escape it. He’d reluctantly taken to wearing polos made of a light fabric that he had tailored to fit him and, occasionally when Greg wasn’t in the house, he’d wear only his trousers and no shirt at all. He actually wouldn’t be surprised if he forwent all dignity when things got hotter towards the very end of his pregnancy and just started walking around naked. Pregnancy, he decided, really wasn’t all that dignified to begin with and there was really no point in letting himself be uncomfortable.

The stretch marks were getting wider as he steadily approached his due date, but the cream Greg had ordered helped greatly with the itchiness of them. His stomach muscles still ached from time to time, but he supposed it really couldn’t be helped and Greg’s massages often helped the tension slip away. The man had been busy lately though, but Mycroft understood. The Omega killer was still on the loose along with every other homicide and no doubt Greg also wanted to get in as much work as he could so he could take a little time off when their daughter was born.

“I’m half convinced you like the more extravagant G names because your own name starts with the same letter.” Mycroft mused as he let himself melt under Greg’s touch. “But I suppose one of those names would be suitable for a middle name, unless you have a family name you haven’t told me about that you’d like to bestow upon our daughter."

Greg chuckled against Mycroft's shoulder. "I haven't told you any of the 'family names' for a reason unless you want to name our daughter Agatha. I'd prefer the weird flower name of yours over that." Greg made a face even though he knew Mycroft couldn't see him. "And while Penelope isn't too bad, I'd rather not give my mum a big head by naming our girl after her. I'll never hear the end of it."

“Hmm.. well in that case, I’d be perfectly alright with having Gwendolyn or Gwenevere as middle names since you seem fond of them. I personally prefer Gwenevere to be completely honest with you, but I still favour Emmaline or Annaliese as first names- Do you think you could move down just a little again? That part need’s been the worst and it could use the extra attention… Ah yes, right there, perfect.” Mycroft got distracted by Greg’s hands again, letting them lull him into a content drowsy state.

Greg kissed the back of Mycroft’s neck right under the nape of his hair as he massaged where he was ordered. God it was nice, that, finally getting somewhere with the baby names and making good use of his day off. They had needed a lazy day in for a long time now. 

“Anneliese Gwennivere Holmes- Lestrade. I like that, yeah,” he mused, liking the way it sounded even though it was a bit complicated. “God she’s going to hate us when it comes to learning how to spell her name. Like seriously, before she is even a teenager where she is expected to hate us.”

Greg nuzzled into the crook of Mycroft’s neck, his mind starting to drift onto other topics that involved getting his hands on Mycroft’s skin besides just massaging his back. He then trailed his lips to the side of Mycroft’s neck, letting his tongue tease at the skin to see how Mycroft might react, hoping it would be favourable. So naturally, the world took that moment to give them the bloody V by having his mobile go off with the ring he had specifically for work.

“Oh buggering hell, what now?”

Mycroft was actually a little surprised that Greg had put the Holmes name before his own when he said it and not the other way around, but when he thought about it Lestrade-Holmes just didn’t sound as good. The name itself sounded rather good as well. Anneliese Gwenevere Holmes- Lestrade. Not bad, had a nice ring to it and he found it rather fitting. It wasn’t set in stone yet, but it was perfectly suitable and he was already rather fond of it. They still had a month to decide.

“I like it as well, we’ll have to put it-” Mycroft was interrupted when Greg’s mobile rang, causing his brows to furrow. Usually the Yard knew better than to call on Greg’s days off unless it was an emergency. Greg was working a lot as it was and everyone there knew he had a pregnant Omega at home. If they were calling now, it had to be important if not crucial. Mycroft carefully moved himself away from Greg on the sofa so the Alpha could answer with ease.

Greg cursed under his breath and lunged for his mobile on the coffee table. One day off, all he wanted was one day off. He abused the button as he answered the call of the third ring, already growling at the caller before anyone could get a word in.

“This better be an...”

“Boss, we think the Omega Killer has struck again.” Greg froze at Donovan’s voice for a split second before he became an explosion of motion. He needed socks, shoes, keys, wallet, and didn’t waste time in finding the items he needed.

“Goddammit! Where’s the body this time?”

“No body yet, Sir. The Omega was just admitted at St Mary’s in Paddington. We are still getting details from his Alpha. He’s eight months in.” Greg cursed vehemently as he hopped into his shoes.

“Why haven’t we caught this bastard? I want to know where he was today, every bloody detail. There has to be CCTV of this!”

Greg had to dash into the bedroom for his wallet then back out as Donovan continued to feed him information. He hung up quickly, needing to call Sherlock before he left. Once he reached the door he paused, guilt roiling in his stomach for having to run off in the middle of a moment. He hopped back to the sofa and bent over the back of it to kiss Mycroft’s temple.

“Sorry luv, duty calls. I promise I’ll make it up to you,” he said with pure regret, but at least Greg found someone who understood the importance of work first, play later.

“I understand perfectly, Gregory. Remember that I have access to various methods of surveillance that you don’t, even on leave, so you just have to ask. I’ve been doing my own sweeps though and I’ve still found just as little as you, but I can keep a lookout.” Mycroft told him quickly, reminding him that he could bend the rules a little to help the other man out.

“Now go call my brother and get to the hospital. I’ll be fine.” Mycroft got up carefully, pulling his shirt back on before ushering the other man out the door. “You’ll get back when you get back. Just be careful. I won’t have the father of my child riddled with holes or something of the like.”

Mycroft actually doubted that Greg would be getting shot at, but from the sound of it, this victim was still alive, so the trail would be hotter than usual. And when the trail was hot, who knew what sorts of messes Greg would get into, especially if Sherlock and Co. were getting involved. It was the least he could do to wish Gregory well before he left.

Greg was just jumping out of the Audi when he spotted Sherlock and John rush to the emergency entrance of the hospital. Sherlock spotted him first while he was fumbling for his wallet to get to his badge. Word had gotten out about the killer striking. There were flashing lights everywhere along with crowd control on the Media. It was already becoming a circus.

“I just heard from Sally, it’s not looking good for the Omega. They’re trying to save the baby now. There’s some hope for her.” His voice was gruff though in control as he gave them that last little tidbit. He didn’t even look at the officer standing guard as he flashed his badge and stormed right in. “We’re still trying to figure out how he was poisoned. Even Mycroft is helping on that.”

An Omega nurse was already there to lead them up to maternity where there was a flurry of activity and an overwhelming mesh of various pheromones. Greg had remembered to dose himself with the spray but it wasn’t doing anything for his jumbled nerves to have all those scents around him. He’d be lucky if he managed to get through the night without a migraine.

\--

Greg blinked his eyes open slowly when the cadet had pulled the panda up in front of the townhouse. Sally had promised to return his car in the morning, having sensed that he had been in no state to drive. Greg rarely doubted her instincts and hadn’t fought getting herded into the car after the long talk with the superintendent and sent home. The man’s words were still bouncing loudly in Greg’s head as his ears continued to ring.

There had been so much blood. Everyone had been screaming. Yelling, Alphas shoving against Alphas. A desperate man had taken advantage of one man’s stupidity. So much blood in one tiny little hospital room on the maternity ward. Greg closed his eyes and tried to shut it all out again. He had never felt so defeated in his life.

“Sir?” Greg looked up at the pair of worried eyes in the windshield before he looked back at the townhouse. With a soft sigh he pushed open the door and out of the vehicle. Every move was slow like he was wading through honey. He felt twenty years older and so damn weary. For once returning to Mycroft didn’t bring in a sense of comfort and home. All of that was swallowed by the choking sense of failure.

He was a failure. Simple as that. His eyes closed once he reached the doorstep, the door knob cold under his palm. He tried not to think of anything, just breathe. The sky above him was dark and heavy with the sweat of summer rain that would drown them all in humidity. At that moment he would have welcomed a different sort of drowning. A minute later he finally unlocked the door and left the soft light of the lanterns that framed the door. Just that small act felt like it took an eternity.

Mycroft had set to work after Greg had left, getting out his laptop and going through the incoming police reports and anything else his people could drag up. It wasn’t much unfortunately. There was too much commotion going on at the hospital to get proper statements from anyone and that was the only place they would be getting anything. There was no ground zero and from the reports, it was unlikely that the Omega would survive to retell all that had happened to him.

The man behind the British government had tried to throw some of his weight around through his connections but still nothing yielded. Sighing, the man retired to his room and got comfortable. If he wanted any results, he was going to have to wait and periodically check his sources, so he might as well relax as he did.

The next thing he knew, he heard the front door open, which started him a little. Blinking blearily, he glanced at the clock and realised it was almost midnight. He must have drifted off. Blinking a few more times, he set his laptop to the side and slowly pulled himself off the bed with a grunt. Now that he thought about it, it was a little odd for Greg to get home this early when the newest lead in the case had been so hot… Maybe things had wrapped up better than expected. Rolling his shoulders, he finally got himself on his own two feet and out his bedroom door towards the foyer.

“Gregory?”

Greg’s head snapped up when he heard Mycroft’s voice. He had hoped to have avoided him until morning. The light of day clearing the fog and all that. He was just too raw to be near anyone, let alone the Omega carrying his child. Greg licked his lips and tried to meet Mycroft’s eyes, but all he saw was the interior of the hospital room.

_The first thing Greg smelled when they had reached the room was blood. John had been the first to back off but Greg had to physically grab Sherlock by the back of his collar and yank him away. He pressed the Omega against the wall and stared at him hard, immediately silencing Sherlock’s protests. When Sherlock finally heard what Greg was hearing, his eyes went wide._

_They could hear the doctors yelling from within the room. Equipment was going insane. There were orders for clamps and forceps and the muffled, “We’re losing her.” Greg could practically hear Sherlock’s and John’s hearts pounding over the sound of blood rushing over his own ears. And then finally, silence. Greg couldn’t figure out why that had bothered him so badly at first until Sherlock broke it with a soft whisper._

_“The baby did not survive.” Next came the soul wrenching, deafening wail of a man that had lost everything. It had echoed through the walls. It had echoed straight through Greg’s bones. And that hadn’t even been the worst part of the night._

Greg made a soft, pitiful sound in the back of his throat as Sherlock’s words stabbed at him like knives. He had the vague sense of hyperventilating and he felt cold despite the humidity in the townhouse. Mycroft might have called his name again, he didn’t know. All he could hear were Sherlock’s words. He became aware that he was shaking, but he didn’t think it was from the cold.

Mycroft’s brows furrowed when he saw how unfocused the Alpha was. He had been quick to respond and then his eyes seemed to fade out. Mycroft was about to ask him what was wrong when he saw the tell-tale signs of someone revisiting a memory and backed down. He watched on hesitantly until Greg faded out of it. The Omega’s eyes then widened as the man started having what seemed to be a panic attack.

“Gregory?” He repeated, this time with noticeable worry as he crossed the space between as quickly as his current weight and balance would allow, stopping about a foot and a half short.

“Greg, what’s wrong? What’s happened?” Mycroft searched the other man’s face as best he could, something gripping his chest as he realised he had no idea what to make of Greg’s expression. If anything scared him, that did.

The elder Holmes wanted to reach out to Greg to comfort him, but he didn’t know if it was a good idea to touch the Alpha in such a state. If Greg really was having a panic attack, there was risk of him lashing out. But it was so hard to not touch him, with how he was shaking and his short, uneven breaths were very worrying. Whatever had happened at the hospital had obviously not been good and Mycroft cursed himself for falling asleep. And he wasn’t about to go check now. Leaving Greg alone like this was not a good idea, even if Mycroft really had no idea what he should do.

“I...” Greg choked on his words as a helpless sob tried to claw its way up his throat. Mycroft’s scent washed over him, but it was almost too much. He felt like he was suffocating. “It was horrible, Myc,” he finally forced out while balling his hands into fists. “The Omega...” Kyle Harper, 42. He hadn’t been much younger than Mycroft. Eight months and two weeks pregnant. The due date was set a week before Mycroft’s. Leigh. They were going to name the baby Leigh, the nurse had said. After... “He didn’t make it. They performed emergency surgery right in the room. All we could smell was blood. They hadn’t saved the baby in time...”

Greg hung his head and felt the hot sting of tears behind his eyes. He didn’t even try to fight them. When they slipped free to roll down his stubbled cheeks it felt more like a bleed than a release. He squeezed his fists tighter until his nails dug into his skin. The pain didn’t help at all.

“ _We’re going,” Greg said decidedly, ready to throw Sherlock out of the hospital if he had to. “It’s too soon to get the Alpha’s statement. We have enough to focus on the crime scene where the Omega first showed signs of illness.” He braced himself for a fight as Sherlock turned his head to stare at the door._

_“Sherlock we need to...” John began but stopped abruptly when Sherlock turned to face them with a nod. His acquiescence was almost more unsettling than the brightness of his eyes. Feeling a tad like he was floating adrift, Greg turned around to lead them back out when a familiar flash of brown leather swiftly moved past them followed by the naked scent of Ashburn’s pheromones. The man didn’t even have the decency to wear a neutralizer in a bloody maternity ward. Greg’s stomach immediately dropped when he heard the door to the room open._

“And then fucking Ashburn,” Greg groaned slamming his palms into his eyes. He swayed slightly, dead on his feet. It felt like the world was about to slide from under him.

Mycroft held back as he listened to Greg, just wanting to reach out and hold him, but he still refrained. He could feel his heart dropping as he listened to what Greg was saying though; piecing what had happened together from the Alpha’s struggling words and what he already knew.

The Omega Killer had struck again, this time with a middle-aged male Omega in the advanced stages of pregnancy. Mycroft sources had told him all the specs of the victim before he’d taken his accidental nap. The target hadn’t been much further along than Mycroft, but this time, he’d made it to the hospital alive. There had been hope. But from what Greg was telling him, it had been for naught. The Omega and his child were dead. Mycroft’s chest felt tight. Like he knew that wasn’t the worst of it.

He watched Greg lapse into another memory, tears streaming down his cheeks, which was worrisome, watching the man’s eyes flick and his face contort as he revisited whatever had just happened. Mycroft didn’t know if he should try to snap him out of it or not when the Alpha came out of it himself. Mycroft could tell it was a struggle for him to even be talking, telling him that it had something to do with Ashburn before-

Mycroft’s eyes widened when he saw the Alpha wobble, quickly moving forward and taking Greg by the arm to steady him, giving it a firm squeeze. He didn’t say anything as he felt it wasn’t yet his place to speak, but he needed to get Greg sitting before he fell over. Gently, he pulled the other man towards the sofa. He didn’t know the whole of what was going on, but it was the least he could do to try to make sure the father of his child didn’t hurt himself.

Greg didn’t realize he had been herded until the back of his knees bumped against the edge of the sofa. He let himself fall in an ungraceful slump, hunching forward with his hands dangling between his thighs. It occurred to him through the fog of his depression wrapped panic attack that he should be ashamed that Mycroft had to deal with him like this. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling.

Mycroft frowned as he got Greg seated, watching the man all but deflate. The Omega sat down beside him, hesitantly placing his hand on the other man’s back. More likely than not, he wasn’t going to get the full story from Greg when he was like this and, quite frankly, he wasn’t going to ask. He’d look up the details himself once Greg calmed down some. Right now, the story didn’t matter. Not like Greg did.

“Gregory, can you look at me? You’re worrying me.” He asked quietly, rubbing small circles on Greg’s back. He wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do, but he felt he should really try to get Greg out of his head and into the present.

Greg sighed, staring down at his hands. He slowly became aware of physical sensation and let Mycroft’s touch sooth him a bit. It was nice, just having someone touch him, to have Mycroft there with him as he tried to make some sense of the night’s horrible events. Finally he looked up at Mycroft, though he still felt like he was adrift. 

“We were going to leave. Let the poor Alpha grieve for having lost his mate and unborn child but fucking Ashburn had to show up. He stormed right into the room without even masking his scent. You can imagine that didn’t go over well. Especially when he had the fucking gall to accuse the Alpha for murdering his own family!”

_“You have got to be kidding me!” Greg dashed into the room to stop Ashburn, but the sight of the Omega still on the bed, uncovered and split open in the middle caught him off guard. There was blood everywhere, soaking into the bedding below the body. It clogged up Greg’s nose, made his heart pound. But what hit him home was the blank stare that met him. Piercing blue eyes that were once probably sharp as a tack met him, already glazed over. Greg stopped breathing altogether because all he saw was Mycroft._

“Right there with a dead body still bleeding out and a nurse holding a dead baby in her arms, Ashburn got right into the Alpha’s face and started interrogating him. The things that bastard said!” Greg growled in the back of his throat, anger rushing up to the surface like a volcano eruption. But it was gone as quickly as it came, leaving him slack with defeat.

“But I... I didn’t do anything. John tried, but his involvement just egged Ashburn on. I just stood there, staring at the body. He...” Greg’s voice cracked and he had to close his eyes to shield himself from superimposing the dead Omega’s face onto Mycroft’s but it was too late for that. “God Myc, all I saw was you.”

Mycroft felt a flush of anger and sorrow as Greg spoke, his other hand returning to the Alpha’s arms and giving it a firm squeeze as he continued to rub his back. He knew he probably wasn’t feeling anything compared to Greg, he hadn’t experienced the events like Greg had, but it was still painful to watch the man go through the motions of telling him about it, so obviously distressed.

Mycroft wasn’t the best at comforting people. It wasn’t something he did often and he knew for a fact he’d never done it well. It was a curse he and Sherlock shared. They sealed off their emotions, sometimes forgetting that others couldn’t do the same. That others couldn’t close themselves off from the world. That ability had been significantly weaker during his pregnancy, the hormones overriding his careful control more often than he liked. So as Greg sat there, falling apart over what he had seen, Mycroft felt it and found he wanted to at least try to make something right.

The Omega slide his hand over Greg’s back and wrapped it over the man’s shoulder, pulling him into a sideways hug and squeezing him gently. He touched his nose to the Alpha’s closer shoulder, still keeping a watchful eye for signs that Greg might not want this.

“Gregory…” He then realised he didn’t know what else to say. That he was sorry? Remind him that he was all right? That he was here and their baby was fine? Even though that was true, Greg had still witnessed the gruesome death of another Omega and his child. Mycroft being all right now wasn’t going to change that. Letting out a soft breath, Mycroft just closed his eyes a moment a held Greg a little closer.

Greg crumpled against Mycroft’s side, weak and shaking from the release of words. It wasn’t helping, talking, but he needed to get it out before it ate him alive from the inside out.

“When I did get over myself, it wasn’t enough. I barely got to them just in time for fists to start swinging. Sherlock had gotten involved, must have said something that really rankled Ashburn. I just managed to get Sherlock out of the way of getting lamped.”

Greg could still feel the silk of Sherlock’s shirt as he pulled Sherlock into his chest and out of Ashburn’s way. The doctors had been yelling at them or at someone to get them to stop while John went at Ashburn in a fury of instinct to protect his mate. No one paid any attention to the grieving Alpha, not until it was too late.

Helplessness swelled up again, making Greg bury his face into his hands on a broken sob. He could hear everyone screaming. The sound of boots pounding on the linoleum out on the hall. The wince inducing crunch when Ashburn’s fist had connected to John’s jaw. Greg had to tighten his grip on Sherlock to keep him from attacking when John went down. Greg regretted that because maybe if he had let Sherlock at the bastard things wouldn’t have gone so pear shaped.

“No one took into account that Ashburn was armed.”

The instant Greg said Ashburn had been armed, Mycroft’s heart raced in panic. Obviously Greg wouldn’t have brought up the weapon unless it played a part in his story. He would have been notified if something had happened to Sherlock or even John, he reminded himself. If one of them was harmed or worse, he would know. That calmed him some, but not much.

The baby started kicking within, sensing her father’s worry and distress. Greg had all but broken down crying as Mycroft held him, only making the Omega want to pull him in closer. The elder Holmes was confused and apprehensive about where this was going, but it was nothing good. Nothing was ever good when tensions were high and there was a gun present and Mycroft got the feeling that whatever it was, it involved even more death.

Seeing Greg like this made him hurt and feel powerless, because he had no clue as to what to do to calm the man, other than offer physical comforts. In an attempt to help, he started rubbing his hand across Greg’s back again, in a soft rocking motion. He still didn’t know what to say, as Greg hadn’t finished the story and he felt that if he were to say anything, it should be when he knew what was going on, even though it seemed to be hurting Greg to do so. He apparently needed to get it out though and Mycroft was just glad he wasn’t being left in the dark.

Greg took a deep shuddering breath and tried to push on. Instinctively leaning into Mycroft’s hand, he ran his hand over his face to clear the tears off his face a bit. Though the memory was still so fresh in his mind, it was hard to shape words to describe the horror that he witnessed.

_“Ashburn, you are fucking out of line!” Greg started to push Sherlock behind him, not easy when Sherlock was fighting him, while trying also to discern of John was alright. John was still on the floor, checking his face for damage with his fingertips. Ashburn turned away from him to sneer at Greg, his hands on his hips._

_Whatever Ashburn might have said Greg didn’t hear for he caught the glint of light off of metal at Ashburn’s hips. Everything went too fast from there. The Alpha suddenly moved in a burst of energy and tackled Ashburn to the ground. Though obviously older with dark hair shot with grey, the grieving man was like a demon. He punched Ashburn senseless then next Greg knew, the nurses were screaming and he was just trying to get Sherlock behind him as the man rose with the DI’s gun in his hand._

“During the mess the Alpha, he obtained Ashburn’s gun.” He spoke with his fingers tangled in his hair, not registering how tight he was pulling. “I thought he was going to fucking shoot us all.” Greg’s head bowed like he lost all of his energy and his body began to shake horrible. “I wouldn’t have blamed him either, the shite we just put him through. But God.” Greg choked on a sob and clutched his hand tighter in his hair until he felt strands being ripped out. “But he didn’t. He...”

Greg couldn’t breathe. His chest felt heavy, like someone was sitting on him. Like a whole building had fallen atop of him. He threw his head back and sucked in a breath then felt like something shattered inside of him. He tried to swallow the first sob, but the second was wracking and horrible and it hurt.

“He fucking turned the gun on himself, Myc! Jesus. Right there, next to his dead mate, he blew his brains out all over the fucking wall.” Greg crumbled forward to push his face against Mycroft’s stomach and wept. 

Mycroft felt himself go cold as the explanation finally came to a conclusion. His first reaction was to hold Greg as close as he could, threading his fingers through the DI’s silver hair as he broke down and cried. The baby was kicking, Greg now doubt able to feel it where he face was pressed against Mycroft’s belly. The Omega felt himself shake a little as he imagined just what Greg had gone through. He’d seen the death of another Omega and child, this time just out of his grasp, only to then have the Alpha and father commit suicide right in front of him. No one should have to witness that.

“Gregory, I’m so sorry you had to go through that…” He murmured, stroking Greg’s hair gently. “I can’t say I know what it’s like, because I don’t, but… if there’s anything you need me to do… anything at all, just ask and I’ll do the best I can…”

God, what Greg must be going through right now, how much emotional pain he must be in. It was things like that that often sent cops into early retirement. This was something that was not only horrible, but something Greg could relate to. He had already voiced that he couldn’t help but see Mycroft in the dead Omega’s place, their daughter gone as well. Mycroft couldn’t help but wonder if Greg could see himself in the Alpha’s place, losing everything and having it be just too much to keep living with. Mycroft wondered if Greg would have ended it if it had been him in that bed. The Omega’s heart almost broke when he realised Greg might have done just that, because losing everything when life had just started being good again.. That was enough to break anyone.

It felt like a year had gone when Greg finally regained control over himself even though it had likely been just minutes. Embarrassed over breaking down and crying all over Mycroft, Greg pushed himself away to lean back against the sofa. He wiped his face off with his sleeve, feeling thoroughly disgusted with himself.

“Probably should tell you that you’ll be seeing more of me now too,” he said, his voice flat and weary. He just felt so empty. Short of losing Mycroft, it was like everything was slipping through his fingers. He tipped his head back and stared up blearily at the ceiling. “The supe decided I was too emotionally compromised by the case, so I’m off of it. In fact, I am on leave, official as of tomorrow. They don’t expect me back until after the baby is born.” Greg then closed his eyes as if it could possibly help in shutting out the world.

Mycroft felt himself deflate further as he watched the man try to compose himself, pulling away. It obviously wasn’t working too well, Greg still seeming distant, hurt and very upset but trying to hold it back. It worried the Omega to see Greg like this and all he could do was hope that the man would eventually come out of it. Mycroft didn’t know how to do more than he already had in the ways of comforting the Alpha.

“I see…” In another circumstance, Mycroft would be rather pleased to have Greg on leave earlier than not if only just to spend time with him and enjoy his presence. But now, he could tell this was eating at Greg, to be taken of the case because he couldn’t handle it emotionally. “I’m glad you’ll be here, but I wish it didn’t have to be under those conditions. I’m sorry.”

Mycroft wanted to tell Greg that it didn’t make him any less of a good man to be emotionally effected by this case, but he could also understand why the Alpha was so upset. To him, this was a failure. Catching the killer would make him feel like he’d done things right, that he’d made the world a better place for their daughter. Mycroft realised he himself might be encompassed in Greg’s view of who he was making the world better for as well. Now that he had been pulled off that case, after experiencing something so traumatising, the man probably had no idea what to do with himself and that mixed with his current emotional instability couldn’t lead to anything good. And the worst part was, was that Mycroft had no idea how to stop it.

\--

Sprawled listlessly on the couch, Greg flopped his hand in the general direction of the remote, disturbing an empty bag of crisps in his search. He watched the bag flutter to the ground with a rustling crunch before returning to his search. Finally his fingers curled around it and he used just enough energy to get the telly on before letting his hand drop heavily at his side.

It had been a week since he had been forced to take leave. Since then he hardly moved from the couch, often times even falling asleep with the news on in the background when Mycroft hadn't been able to coax him into bed. He just didn't feel like doing anything but try and keep tabs on his case, the case, and any mention of it just made him feel that much more useless. The worst part of it all was that he was aware how he was acting and the strain it was putting on Mycroft but he couldn't dredge up enough energy to do anything about it.

**"At 11:23 this morning Detective Inspector Nathanial Ashburn caught the notorious 'Omega Killer' in his residence in Chelsea."**

Greg shot up into a sitting position as he watched Ashburn on the screen leading away a scruffy looking man in handcuffs. His mouth dropped as the blonde woman continued with the story.

**"Beta Paul Smith of ASCO Pharmaceuticals was charged today with the murders after an anonymous tip lead Ashburn and his team to Smith's locker at his work where vials of the poison had been found. Ashburn has this to say..."**

Greg jabbed the power button with too much force, cutting off the smug Alpha's grin before he could issue his statement. He then threw the remote for good measure before burying his face in his hands. He should be glad, he really should, the killer had been apprehended, but instead he was filled with self-loathing.

Smith had been one of his suspects. Greg had interrogated the man himself but they didn't have enough substantial evidence. If he had only looked harder, had dug deeper, then at least three innocent lives wouldn't have been ruined by his incompetence.

Mycroft peered out of the bedroom door and frowned, his eyes sad. He’d seen the whole thing, having just woken up from a short nap. He’d mostly given up trying to get Greg out of the slump he was in, his attempts only bringing both of them down, and had just started minding his own business, even though he wanted to be around Greg

They didn’t discuss baby names anymore and the touching had all but stopped. In the whole week, Mycroft had received all of one, half-hearted back rub that Greg had offered to do but hadn’t really followed through that much before slipping back into his inert state. Mycroft knew Greg was going through a lot though and had recently come to terms with the fact that there was little to nothing he could do to help the man, so he retreated.

The past few days he’d mostly stayed in his room, napping and reading and keeping up on a little paperwork where he could on his laptop. The world didn’t stop because he was on leave after all, even if it did sort of go against the point of leave.

So when he’d gotten up to get something to eat after waking from another powernap and seeing what he had, he wasn’t sure what to think. The fact that the killer had been caught, by Ashburn no less, was obviously a devastating blow to Greg. Sighing, Mycroft slipped out of the room and quietly went towards the kitchen. If Greg wanted to say something to him, he could, but Mycroft wasn’t going to interfere.

"I can't fucking believe it," Greg muttered, reacting to Mycroft's presence. "Ashburn caught the bastard. _My_ suspect. I had had him in my grasp and I bloody let him go." He slammed his fist against the arm rest of the sofa. With a growl of frustration he threw himself off the sofa to pace in his socks. He suddenly felt like he was suffocating. He needed air. No, he needed to get away. It wasn't like he was of any use anymore.

"What is the fucking point in me when I let a killer slip through my fingers?" He glanced up at the kitchen though he couldn't really focus on anything. "You know that ridiculous tattoo you seem to like? Know why I got it? Because my gran used to call me her angel. Told me I was meant to protect people. But I failed, didn't I?" He scraped a hand through oily hair, feeling for to burst out of his skin. "I'm nothing but a failure! She's probably rolling in her grave now."

Greg stopped his frantic circling on the carpet to grab two fistfuls of greying hair and tugging sharp enough to make his scalp ache. He needed out. God he needed out. He needed to remove his useless self from London if all else so he couldn't t do anymore harm by just taking up space.

He jerked when his mobile went off then snatched it off the coffee table. It was Donovan. Perfect, he needed a favour from her anyways. "I'm going to take this upstairs," he growled before storming off without listening for a reply. For all he was paying attention Mycroft had likely retreated to the bedroom in disgust. Greg wouldn't have blamed him.

Mycroft had turned in the doorway when he heard Greg speak, unable to keep himself from jumping a little when the man’s fist came down on the sofa armrest. His little start caused the baby to get a little riled, proceeding to kick him rather hard in the ribs before managing to roll and stretch a little. Mycroft concealed a wince. Recently, her movements were becoming far less comfortable. She was running out of room and he could feel it. Every hard kick or punch tended to hurt and the softer movements made him feel heavy and distorted. Just two days ago, she’d been sitting funny and his whole belly had been uncomfortably lopsided.

She didn’t keep his attention for long though because soon Greg was up, pacing the den like an angry, fed-up, caged tiger, spitting and hissing about his failing and the tattoo. Mycroft didn’t get any closer. He was fairly sure Greg would never hurt him voluntarily, but if the DI’s Alpha side became enraged, well..

Still he listened never saying anything as Greg ranted on, finally stopping his movements, his body tense as he gripped his hair. Mycroft had hoped this would be a good time to move forward a little, make sure Greg knew that he wasn’t a failure. That it was understandable for him to feel this way, but he wasn’t a failure. Not to Mycroft anyway. But the Omega didn’t get that chance, because before he could say anything, Greg’s phone buzzed and suddenly he was storming upstairs to take the call, leaving Mycroft alone. Closing his eyes, Mycroft bit his lip and hung his head for a moment, resting his hands on his stomach.

“Your father’s just not in a good place right now, little one…” He murmured to their unborn daughter, rubbing his thumbs over the taut skin. “But he is a good man… I just hope he’ll be able to see that soon…” Mycroft then returned to his room. He wasn’t all that hungry anymore.

After hanging up with Donovan, Greg let the phone slip down on the bed where he sat then dropped his hands between his thighs. It would take her a few hours to get his old bike out of storage for him, but it gave him time to pack. He didn't move right away though, instead he stared at Mycroft's wardrobe for a few minutes, breathing in the stale air from the barely used bedroom.

It smelled mostly of him now, with the majority of his stuff from his old flat having been crammed in the upstairs bedroom. Greg had went and cancelled his lease on the crap flat when he moved back into the townhouse with the intention of getting a better flat once the baby was born. Now he wouldn't need to do even that.

Sighing, he finally moved so he could pack a bag with spare clothing and the essentials. His only thoughts as he stuffed a duffel was of leaving, trying not to think much of anything. But once he had the bag slung over his shoulder, his leather jacket a bit snug on him now, he couldn't help but think how he was going to face Mycroft on his way out. Or if he was going to at all.

In the end, Greg didn't see Mycroft when he left to meet Sally outside. She hopped off the bike when she saw him, her dark, perceptive eyes covering him from head to toe. Her jaw was set with displeasure.

"I don't want to hear it, Sally. Thanks for bringing the old girl back to me. You got a ride home?" It was then that he noticed a car across the street with the latest bloke she was dating. Greg wasn't sure if he liked the looks of him but he was sure as hell better than her throwing herself at Anderson.

"But Sir. Do you really think..." Greg cut her off with an impatient gesture and hopped onto his bike. He adjusted his bag before grabbing the handle bars and revving the engines to cut off anything else she had to say. The motor bike came to life under his hands, her roar washing away the chaos in his head. For the first time in a week he finally felt like he was doing something right.

His only mistake was looking up at the townhouse and catching Mycroft's eyes through the window. Greg's heart stuttered in his chest and his face fell. He knew he was being a coward, he knew how much he was hurting Myc from sharing just one last look, but it wasn't enough to make him stay.

When Mycroft had returned to his room, he’d gone to lie down almost immediately. Their daughter was pummelling his insides from the distress he was feeling and this was the only way to calm her some without Greg’s help. He was lost for what he was supposed to do. Everything was going downhill and nothing he did ever seemed to help. It made his chest ache and feel more lost than he ever had in his life.

Closing his eyes, he tried to think, his hands rubbing circles on the sides of his belly. His thought process was broken when he finally heard Greg come downstairs, to which he considered getting up to try to talk to the man, but then he heard the door open and shut and let out a sigh. It seemed like Greg still needed to blow off some steam.

The Omega was about to get settled again when he heard the rumble of a motorbike right out front of the house. Worried and confused, the elder Holmes hauled himself up from the bed and went over to the window, pulling back the curtains. His eyes widened when he saw Greg mounted on the bike, duffle bag over his shoulder, Sally Donavan standing by. The Alpha looked back at the house, meeting Mycroft’s eyes for a single moment. All Mycroft saw was despair.

“Oh God…” Mycroft was suddenly stumbling over himself, trying to get to the door as fast as he could without falling over. Greg couldn’t leave. Not like this. Not now. The baby was due in less than a month and Greg was supposed to be there for her. For them. God, please let it be some sort of misunderstanding. Greg couldn’t leave…

Flinging open the door, Mycroft staggered out, onto the single step only to see Greg driving down the road on his bike before disappearing. Everything seemed to drain out of the elder Holmes as he watched the father of his child leave. Nothing else mattered in the moment. Greg was gone. The Omega slumped back, leaning heavily on the doorframe. He could feel his heart breaking… and it hurt. It hurt more than he could ever imagine.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Putting the pieces back together

_I need you to give a message to Lestrade, he’s not answering his phone. SH_

Mycroft blinked at the message, his chest feeling tight once he registered what it said. Apparently Sherlock hadn’t heard about the most recent events in Mycroft’s life. Not that he would have heard unless Greg (which he doubted) or Sally had told his brother about the Alpha’s departure. It seemed neither was the case. Mycroft closed his eyes a moment before rolling on his side and adjusting the blankets, one hand returning to his stomach as the other still clutched his phone. Biting his lip, he finally replied.

_I can’t. –M_

It had been about two days or so since Greg had left (Mycroft hadn’t really been keeping track. The moment Greg had driven off, things had seemed like a blur ever since) and neither hide nor hair of the man had come up. Mycroft had tried texting and had even mustered up an attempt to call, only to instantly be redirected to Greg’s voicemail. He hadn’t bothered to ask his contacts. If they did find Greg, what was he supposed to do? The man obviously didn’t want to be here and Mycroft wasn’t about to force him to come back.

_What do you mean you can’t? You haven’t gotten stuck in a doorway or something have you? SH_

The elder Holmes didn’t even bother to glower at the insult. He wasn’t really feeling up to indulging Sherlock in his childish banter. Sighing, Mycroft played over how Greg had left in his head, his heart hurting. It was silly… He and Greg weren’t mates and were only temporary lovers until Mycroft knew if it was the hormones or not, it shouldn’t hurt like it did. And yet… Shaking his head, Mycroft responded.

_Greg isn’t here. He left about two days ago without saying anything and I don’t know where he is. I don’t want to know either. He obviously didn’t want to be here anymore. -M_

Mycroft didn’t get another text for  a while, making him idly wonder if he’d caused a stir at Baker Street. Putting his phone down, he rolled over to his other side and tried to take a nap as the baby shifted uncomfortably. He dozed off for a while until he was woken up by his phone buzzing. The Omega groped around for it until he found it, reading its contents.

_I see. That being the case, I can only request one thing. Stay inside and stay safe. SH_

“Oh that bumbling _idiot_.” Sherlock sat in his chair hunched over and jabbing violently at his mobile as he searched for a certain number. “That cretin. Fool. Moron. _Imbecile_!” There just did not seem a sufficient enough word to describe Lestrade’s idiocy. Perhaps there simply wasn’t a word adequate enough to fully encompass just how stupid the DI was acting. How utterly childish he was being by abandoning Mycroft, especially now.

John frowned, glancing up from his laptop when he heard Sherlock’s agitated voice from the other room. Something didn’t sound good. Sighing, he picked up his mug of tea and went to see what was going on with his mate, readying himself for anything.

“Sherlock? What’s going on?” He asked once he entered the room, seeing the man looking like he was about to glare a hole into his mobile. Someone had obviously done something, but from Sherlock’s rantings, he hadn’t gotten a _who_ just yet.

Sherlock hopped to his feet in a pique of restless energy, his fingers still flying over the keys of his mobile. He briefly glanced up at John, his anger and disappointment clear on his pale features. “Forget anytime I may have alluded to Lestrade being only half as stupid as the rest of the Met. I have never met such a moron in my life,” he sneered then continued his search.

“What? What’s he done?” John asked, putting his mug down on the kitchen table before going over and glancing into the fridge for a moment before deciding that if he had been hungry, the jar of eyeballs put him off. Besides, there seemed to be more pressing matters. Apparently Greg had done something. And the way Sherlock was going on about it, John realised it might have something to do with Mycroft. He knew the two of them were probably struggling since the whole.. hell at the hospital, but he hadn’t heard anything else.

“He left!” Sherlock yelled with a hard jab of the enter button before he crowed at finally finding what he had been searching for. “The idiot just went and left Mycroft in his vulnerable state while the real killer is still out there.” He slid his fingers over the screen to scroll out of the browser and pulled up the call pad and started punching in the number.

“I have been wondering when the man might have a midlife crisis, but I didn’t expect him to have the audacity to just up and leave Mycroft in a fit of self-loathing. Why must I be associated with such fools?”

“He left?! What the hell does he think he’s doing?” John asked out of shock and confusion. It hadn’t been all that long ago that the DI had been getting depressed over being _away_ from Mycroft, and now he’d just up and abandoned the man carrying his child. The Alpha felt a curl of anger in his chest. Sherlock was right, Greg was being an idiot, pulling a stunt like that. Trying to calm down, he walked up behind his mate and stood up on his toes to try to glance over the tall Omega’s shoulder.

“Wait, who are you calling now?” He asked, trying to think of who Sherlock would think of to contact for a situation like this. He already knew Lestrade was ignoring any texts and calls from Sherlock (which made a lot more sense now), so who did the younger Holmes think could get through to him? Assuming that’s what Sherlock was doing.

Sherlock’s finger hovered over the call button as he looked up at his mate with a sneering grin. “Who do you think? He is acting like an utter child, who else than to call his mother,” Sherlock said before pushing the button to make the call.

From the snatches of conversation that he had picked up over the years, mostly between Lestrade and John, Sherlock knew that the former Mrs. Lestrade could almost be as formidable as his own mother. If Lestrade was to be trusted at all.

“Hello Ms. Penelope Cane? I’m calling to talk about your son.”

\---

It took almost four hours to drive from the family home in Bristol to the Westminster town house, and by then it was already dark. Greg knew he should have left earlier, but he got caught up talking to his mum, or rather, continuously getting lectured about his idiocy when she wasn’t in a coddling mood. It should be astounding that for a woman about to hit seventy she was still as frightening as ever.

Be as it may, he contemplated just waiting until morning to finally confront Mycroft. Greg hadn’t shaved in the five days he had been gone, having grown himself almost a proper beard by that point. His clothing had seen better days despite a good washing, (also courtesy of that damn mother of his,) and overall, he looked as much as a wreck as he still felt. But he knew that he needed to stop being a coward, no matter how exhausted he was or how much he dread the conversation that lied ahead, so he forced himself to turn off the bike and get on his feet.

He was rehearsing in his head just how he was going to apologise as he walked up to the front step when a scent made him stop dead in his tracks. It was fresh and prominent, hitting him like a lorry truck, the scent of an unbound and unbred Omega. All the possibilities as to why he was smelling an unbred Omega hit him hard enough to make him reel back, stumbling a few steps away from the door.

It could be nothing, could be absolutely nothing, but the scent was so strong that he didn’t think it could have been by just some casual visitor. So his mind immediately flipped to it being Mycroft, though he honestly didn’t know for sure. It occurred to him that he didn’t know what Mycroft’s natural scent was. The man had always masked himself, letting everyone get the impression that he was an Alpha. So if it was Mycroft’s natural scent without the pregnancy hormones changing his pheromones, that could mean... “Oh God.” Nothing good. Either Mycroft had the baby already or...

A flash of movement inside caught his attention and made his heart rate spike. Greg saw the familiar outline of Mycroft’s back through the curtains but without a side profile he couldn’t see if the man was still sporting the giant belly. Either way, he found himself backing away from the door. He wanted to be wrong, good God he wanted to be wrong but he didn’t have the courage to knock on the door and find out for himself.

Whether Mycroft had had the baby or lost her, Greg hadn’t been there. Instead he had swanned off to drown himself in self-loathing and alcohol and he hadn’t been there. His leaving could have been what did it, forced Mycroft’s body under enough stress that he either went into premature labour or... “Oh my God.” Greg didn’t want to think it. He didn’t want to think at all. So in a fit of panic and another wave of self-loathing, he hopped right back on the bike even if he was in no state to drive. He was just not brave enough to find out the answer yet. He wasn’t being brave at all.

Mycroft was a mess. Since Greg had left he’d become withdrawn and depressed. What was worse, he’d become paranoid. After Sherlock had told him to ‘stay inside and stay safe’, he’d been confused, trying to read into exactly what his younger brother meant. Numerous possibilities danced through his mind and he’d started checking his security measures around his home regularly as well as just peer out the window whenever he was near one.

After a few days, it got particularly bad. When he ran out of food, he called Anthea to bring him more, asking her where she’d gotten it and if anyone else had been near it before he even touched it. Most of the time, he holed himself up in his room, only getting light bouts of sleep in before waking up at even the slightest sound. He didn’t even go out to get his mail when his special postbox buzzed in letting him know there was something in it until two hours later when he was sure no one was around.

It got even worse when he swore he saw someone move just out his window. It scared him beyond belief and he knew for a fact he wasn’t getting any sleep that night, his senses high wired and on edge. He didn’t relax, only able to pace around his room, carefully stroking his stomach from time to time, trying to calm his daughter for she seemed to be able to sense his unease. He had to sit down often to catch his breath, the baby now squashing his lungs almost constantly, but he stayed alert, always watching. If anyone tried to get in, he would know.

\--

It felt like afternoon when Greg woke up in a cheap hotel with a raging headache. His mouth tasted like an ashtray and stale whiskey and the pathetic part was that he was starting to get used to the hangovers, that being his third one that week. God he was nothing but a washed out old has been. Groaning, he scrubbed a hand over his scruffy face and pushed himself out of bed. With the battery in his mobile dead and still no charger, he needed to do a bit of leg work to get some answers.

An hour later found him in front of the Baker Street flat, wondering on the wisdom of his decision. He needed to know what happened to Mycroft and the baby before he went back there. Granted, he was still being a coward, but if anyone would know about Mycroft's condition it would be Sherlock. Driven by the need to know, he walked into the hall, finding the front door unlocked, and walked up the stairs to 221B.

Greg barely got a knock in before the door flung open with Sherlock actually standing there. It was a rare occurrence for him to ever open the door, unless John wasn't in. Probably best. Greg was going to embarrass himself enough in front of Sherlock.

"Hey have you..." Greg didn't get another word out for the next second he felt a bright burst of pain on the right side of his face and had been hit hard enough to send him on his arse. Sherlock had punched him. He had actually punched him! "What the hell, Sherlock!"

All he got as a reply was a huff of breath and Sherlock’s sharp glare coupled with a curl of his lips like he was looking down at something truly distasteful. Then he turned on his heel and stalked back into the flat, leaving Greg where he was sprawled, a hand to his aching face. Oh he was going to get a hell of a shiner, that was for sure.

“Here, this should help with the swelling. I’d get you ice, but Sherlock’s frozen various human tidbits in the ice cube tray.” John handed Greg the bag of frozen peas, before crossing his arm and letting out a short sigh as he looked Greg over. The DI looked like hell, scruffy and hungover. There had likely been a bag under each eye, but now there was one under the left one, Greg’s right eye slowly turning an unpleasant shade of purple.

John wasn’t sure what to think. Part of him felt sorry for Greg, but the other felt he had completely deserved getting clouted in the face by Sherlock. The man had left his pregnant… okay, well they weren’t mates, but still. Greg had left Mycroft with barely a word and even Sherlock was worried about the pregnant Omega. Apparently he had deduced from their texts that Mycroft was slipping into depression. But.. from the looks of it, Mycroft wasn’t the only one.

“… I’ll be right back.” John then slipped out of the living room, leaving Greg on the sofa, and slipped into his and Sherlock’s bedroom where his mate was sulking.

“You’re going to have to talk to him, you know. He did come back after all. I mean, I’m not sure why he’s here and not at Mycroft’s but I think he’s going to try to make things right again, Sherlock. Yeah, he’s a right git for what he did, but he’s been through a lot emotionally and I don’t think he knows where to turn.” John told Sherlock quietly, trying to think what it would be like in Greg’s place.

Sherlock glowered down at John, righteous in his anger. “That’s no excuse and you know it. The killer is still out there, John. I don’t care what the press says, I know that Smith is innocent. Lestrade is the biggest idiot I know, but he did not let a murderer go free when he had cleared the Beta.” He flexed his fist, his jaw clenching at the pain though it was a good sort of ache. He would never regret hitting the man that had abandoned his brother.

“But now Mycroft is susceptible. Think of the last three victims! They were all generally the same weight and age, and the close to the same term as him. It’s almost as if...” Sherlock shook his head, swiping a hand through his hair in frustration. He let out a long exhale then looked back at his mate, his anger subsiding for the moment. “I am not going to apologize,” he said firmly.

“But he doesn’t know that! You never got the chance to tell him, remember? He still thinks the killer was caught by Ashburn.” John hissed, crossing his arms. “Besides, I’m not asking you to apologise, I’m asking you to talk to him. I think he’s here because he wants to fix things with Mycroft but he doesn’t know where to start.”

John shook his head. Greg was just a mess and he didn’t even know where to start. It looked like he’d just been pulled off the streets, though more likely than not, he’d just neglected all personal hygiene since he’d left Mycroft. Still, the first thing he was going to need to do if making things right with Mycroft was his intentions was get cleaned up. The man needed a shave, a toothbrush, a couple of painkillers and a nap at least. Now if only the stubborn Omega in the flat would just give in and talk to the man.

Sherlock’s shoulders slumped in petulant defeat. “Why do I have to talk to him? You’re better at that sort of thing.” It took only a look from John to tell Sherlock that he was not getting out of that situation. He didn’t understand why he would have to talk to the idiot, he was more likely to lamp the man again, but fine. If John was going to send him out there then he was also giving Sherlock permission to hit him if he so chose to. He was more than fine with that compromise.

Pulling his shoulders back, he stormed into the sitting room and threw himself into his chair to glare at Lestrade. Good God the man really was a mess. To think that Mycroft had chose him to father his child. What was he thinking?

“You really are an idiot.”

Greg glanced up with nothing but emptiness reflecting in his dark eyes. Or rather eyes, seeing as how the right one was rather swollen. “Tell me something that I don’t know.”

“Mycroft has fallen into a depressed state, likely barely even able to take care of himself, which is no good for the child he is carrying, might I add...”

Greg’s head snapped up, a glimmer of hope alighting in his eye.

“Wait so the baby...” But Sherlock continued talking right over him.

“Oh and the Omega Killer is still at large. Did you know that, Lestrade!”

Greg jolted like he had been hit with an electric shot then he was up on his feet, seemingly ignoring the way he swayed. Sherlock too jumped to his feet so that he was not being loomed over.

“What? No, Ashburn caught him! There was evidence!”

“God you really are an imbecile! Clearly it was planted. You checked that locker yourself. I know, I was there. And there was no other evidence. Smith is an innocent man.”

“Oh God. Oh fuck. I get to get back to Mycroft. Oh fuck me, what was I thinking?” he spun around, knocking against the side of John’s chair, but still made a rush at the door. That was until deceptively strong hands grabbed him by the back of his coat and yanked him back.

“Oh not like that, you won’t! John! I talked to him. You clean him up!”

“Oh, so I get to play mother, do I?” John replied with a sigh, coming out of the bedroom. He really should have talked to Greg himself, to put things more gently and all that, but he hadn’t wanted to miss anything and Sherlock had a way with getting a point across. He glanced at Greg. “No offence, mate, but you reek and you look like you got in a fight with a taxi. Mycroft’s going to be fine for the next few hours or so until you get cleaned up and maybe have a quick lie down.”

“First up, get you a shower. You’re going to make Mycroft gag if you go back smelling like this.” The shorter Alpha waved Sherlock off to get him to let go before turning Greg around and leading him by the shoulders towards the bathroom. “I’m afraid neither Sherlock’s or my clothes will fit you, but we could wash yours for you if you’d like.”

The doctor pushed the DI into the bathroom, telling him to be careful with the knobs because for some reason if you turned the water to its absolute hottest setting, it became frigid instead. He then told Greg there were new razors in the bottom drawer and left the man to his business, shutting the door behind him.

Greg stared at the door for a blank moment before resting his head on the cool wood. He just needed a moment to collect himself then he would get cleaned up. He did need a shower, and a shave before he saw Mycroft, even his mother had told him as much but at the time all he could think of was getting back to London. He had even left his bag of clothes behind, leaving him only in the black cotton shirt and faded denims he was currently in. All of which reeked of cheap alcohol and old sweat.

_“Gregory Michael Lestrade, by your grandmother’s grave what do you think you’re doing here and not with the poor man that you got pregnant?” Greg had nearly had a heart attack when he walked into his old family home with the fresh groceries, the house which had been previously empty save for his sorry arse. But now his stout little mother was staring him down with wrinkled hands on her waist, looking like an avenging angel about to smite him._

_“Mum? What the hell are you doing here?” He pushed himself into the house and past her to the kitchen to put the bag mostly of canned goods and premade sandwiches on the counter. They would keep until he could figure out what his mother was doing there and how to get rid of her. He turned back to face the sitting room where she had been standing to find her right in his face, her dark glare rivalling that of a Holmes._

_“I’m here to knock some sense into you if I have to. Now I know about the tragedy at the hospital, dear. I understand that hit you hard, but that is no excuse to leave that poor man. Just think of the stress it might have put on him. Or on the baby! Not to mention I see that you’re back on that silly bike. And what is it with that dirt you call a beard of yours? You look ridiculous.”_

Greg pushed himself off the door and looked at himself in the mirror. He hadn’t done that in the five days he had been gone. One of the reasons why he hadn’t shaved, he hadn’t been able to look himself in the mirror. But he was looking now and his mum was right, he did look ridiculous. And haggard, and oh yes, that was definitely going to be a beauty of a bruise. Sherlock really did know how to throw a punch for someone so damn willowy.

Sighing deeply, Greg turned the tap on in the shower then slowly stripped out of his soiled clothes. He still didn’t know how the hell his mother had known where to find him or how she had known he had swanned off in the first place. The only answer he had got for that question had been, ‘I know my son.’ But he was grateful, really. If she hadn’t shown up and all but kicked him out of the house he might never have returned on his own. And to think, Ashburn had caught the wrong guy, meaning that all that time he was away, Mycroft could have been in danger had he left the house.

Greg looked at himself one last time in the mirror once he was down to skin. Even if he did shave he just saw a worthless bag of skin and bones, going more than just a little soft in the middle. If Mycroft knew what was good for him, he would kick Greg right out on the kerb when he showed up but he wasn’t going to run anymore. With a decisive nod, he kicked his clothes out into the hall then stepped into the shower, only to promptly scream like a bloody girl because he had forgotten to turn the taps like John had instructed, meaning that he had walked right into a spray of ice water.

John and Sherlock both looked up from their respective activities in the living room at the sound of the shriek.

“You did warn him about the shower knobs, didn’t you?”

“I did, thought I explained it rather well too. He must have not been paying attention.”

“Told you he was an idiot.”

There was a momentary pause between them as they glanced at each other before promptly bursting into fits of laughter.

\--

Despite Mycroft’s efforts, the man could barely keep himself awake, slipping in and out of fitful and shallow sleep. He found himself missing Greg as he was caught in those moments of half-sleep, thinking for small snatches of time that the Alpha was there beside him. He would find the delusion to be false whenever he started awake again, his heart aching a little more each time.

As he was finally falling into a deeper sleep, settling on the bed and kicking all the blankets off, that was when he heard it. Someone walking towards the door. The man’s heart rate picked up in panic as he quietly and carefully pulled himself up from the bed and moved over towards the window, peering out. A shadowy figure was on the step, fumbling with something in his hands. Mycroft wasn’t able to make out the persons features.

Suddenly, he heard the front door lock snick, like someone inserting a key. His own bedroom was right next to the foyer. He would never be able to sneak out with the person already locking the door. Mycroft swallowed. He’d have to take the offensive.

Trying to get control of his breathing, the Omega crept towards his bedroom door, pausing to pick up his umbrella from where it was leaning against his dresser. The man stopped dead when he heard the front door creak open, almost forgetting to breathe. The footsteps were slow, the intruder obviously being careful as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Mycroft waited, listening carefully until the footfalls were almost to his door and then-

Mycroft flung the door open, his adrenaline pumping through his system and his heart racing. With a shout, he swung the umbrella with all his might by the point. The hard wooden handle made impact with the intruder’s abdomen, the air leaving the shadowy figure making a noticeable sound in the dark. The trespasser crumpled, obviously winded by the blow, giving Mycroft the chance to run. But something caught his nose that made him stop. Eyes wide, the Omega groped the wall until he found the light switch, flicking it on and shedding some light on the being, that he’d just battered with his umbrella, who was now crouched on the foyer rug.

Calling his day a ‘bad’ day would be an understatement. Greg had still been hurting from the hangover and Sherlock’s left hook when he had silently crept into the townhouse. Seeing that it had been dark, he didn’t want to risk waking Mycroft up but he hadn’t been willing to spend another night in a hotel. It struck him as rather obvious that he should have woken Mycroft up otherwise he wouldn’t be a crumpled heap on the foyer, his good eye blinking up at Mycroft and trying to force his poor battered lungs to remember how to draw in air.

“Jesus,” he gasped, then ended up in a coughing fit when the sharp inhale made his diaphragm seize up on him. His face hurt, his head hurt, now his whole abdomen hurt, not to mention his tailbone from having falling hard on his rear, twice in one day. From his recollection, getting shot hurt less. No he felt like he had just been blown up. Yes, that was much closer to the pain he was currently suffering.

“Oh God.” He sucked in another breath while holding onto his ribs. He would never have expected a man eight months up the duff to have a swing like that. And what the hell was that umbrella really made of? It was like getting hit by a baseball bat. “And a happy hello to you too, Myc.”

Mycroft blinked, the first thing he registered being the shock of grey hair. That in itself was enough to make him drop the umbrella, before Greg even said a word. Then he wasn’t sure what to do. Greg was back. And Mycroft had just hit him with all his might in the gut with his umbrella. His first instinct was to get on his knees and make sure Greg was all right, but then he remembered that getting on his knees probably wasn’t a good idea with his balance how it was. He also sort of wanted to slap Greg for leaving, but that urge went away when he remembered he’d already pummelled the man unintentionally. The Omega let out a long breath.

“Greg… What in heaven’s name are you doing?” He managed, hesitant. Was Greg back for good or… The elder Holmes walked over to the Alpha, offering him his hand once the man caught his breath, pursing his lips. “I should just be kicking you out, you know.. But you came back, so obviously you at least have something to say.”

Mycroft’s shoulders sagged, feeling conflicted. Greg had left and it hurt. It had hurt a lot, leaving Mycroft listless and depressed and now the man wasn’t sure what to think about the Alpha being back. He didn’t like being to unsure emotionally. But it was the least he could do to help the man up off the floor and maybe get him some ice. They could go from there.

Greg took Mycroft’s hand but used most of his own force to get himself up on his feet. He didn’t want to accidentally pull him down after all, not in his condition. Which was such a relief to see. That big, round belly with their daughter snug inside, safe. He was still thoroughly confused regarding the strong scent of an unbound Omega outside the townhouse, but all he could smell right then was the familiar scent of Mycroft and his pregnancy pheromones and it was such a relief it made his head swim a bit.

“Would you believe that I’m here to apologize?” he asked, hanging his head in a hang dog expression while rubbing his sore ribs. “I know it’s long over do and I don’t have the right and you really should kick me to the kerb, but I had some sense knocked back into me. Literally,” he said with a rueful twist of the lips, pointing at his eye.

“I’m back in London. For good. Whether you want me back around you, that’s up to you.” He looked up at Mycroft with a nervous lick to his lips. “I’m really sorry Myc. I honestly don’t know what I was thinking when I left. I still don’t know what to do with myself, but I won’t run like that again. I promise. I understand if my promises don’t mean much to you, but it’s all I have.”

Mycroft sighed, a corner of his lip twitching upward as he listened. From the sound of it, Greg wanted another chance. And, considering everything, Mycroft was willing to give it, but things weren’t going to right back to the way they were. This time Mycroft’s trust had been hurt. He understood why Greg had done it, the hospital tragedy had been emotionally painful for Greg and he just hadn’t been able to cope. That hadn’t made him leaving any easier for Mycroft though.

“We obviously need to talk, but.. let’s go into the kitchen. I need to sit down and you’ll probably need something for your stomach. Which leads to the question, what made you think it would be a good idea to sneak into my home in the middle of the night without waking me? Granted, I was already awake, I haven’t been sleeping well as of late, but if I had been asleep, how did you think I was going to react to waking up to find you back?” The Omega asked, leading them into the kitchen.

Greg followed, walking gingerly for the sake of his battered body. “I think we covered that I haven’t exactly been thinking lately,” he sighed, blinking when Mycroft switched the light on in the kitchen. “I just... wanted to make sure that you were alright. I was under the impression that you weren’t and I was worried.”

“I could put some tea on if you want. You look like you’ve had a bad day. Did my brother give you that bruise or did Dr. Watson do the honours?” More likely than not, Sherlock had clocked Greg for being a right idiot and leaving Mycroft alone. The elder Holmes shook his head. As much as they fought, Sherlock did care, even though he would never admit it. A bit protective too if the deepening bruise was anything to go by. The Omega shook his head, going over to the stove to put the teakettle on.

“And this? Oh that is definitely your brother’s work. I uh, I was here, last night. Was going to do all the apologising properly but I sort of panicked.” Greg went up to the cupboard to get the mugs and tea down so he could urge Mycroft to sit as soon as the kettle was on. “I swear I smell an unbonded Omega right out the door and it messed with my head. So I thought to go to Baker Street first and this was how your brother greeted me. At least we know he cares.”

Mycroft’s brows furrowed as he listened, pausing in putting the kettle on as he considered what Greg had said. If that was true, then there was a fairly good chance that the movement he’d seen last night was the Alpha leaving. He didn’t know about the unbred Omega though. It could be anyone who had just happened by. Whoever they were, they’d gotten Greg all riled up. Heating up the stove and putting the water on, he finally went over to sit at the table, getting off his feet with a soft whuff of air.

The baby was pressing more and more on his lungs and other organs these days, constantly leaving Mycroft out of breath. He actually found himself looking forward to their daughter shifting into the birthing position like he’d read about because apparently that meant at least it would be easier to breathe. Sighing, he watched Greg get the cups out, trying to think what to say. And it just all seemed to bubble up.

“I understand that what happened was emotionally excruciating for you, Greg, but I still don’t understand why that meant you felt the need to leave. Even though you’re back now, I just can’t forget what it was like while you were gone.” Mycroft bit his lip, his fingers curling on the table, barely holding back tears. Stupid hormones. “I thought… I thought you weren’t coming back. You didn’t say anything about leaving. I just thought you were going out to go clear your head until I saw you on that bike. I was so worried about you, the way you were after the hospital incident and to see you just drive away like that.. I thought you’d given up, Gregory. On me and her. This isn’t like last time. This is a personal betrayal of my trust and part of me still wants to kick you out for that.” Mycroft swallowed thickly, closing his eyes.

“But… despite that.. I don’t think I have it in me to not give you another chance. I’m still incredibly hurt, but in all… I’m glad you’re back.”

As Mycroft spoke, Greg braced his hands on the counter and listened, his head hung in his shame. He wish he could properly explain his actions. To make Mycroft understand why Greg had felt so useless, so damn, unforgivable worthless that he felt like it was best for everyone that he just left.

He turned around to lean against the counter when he heard Mycroft pause like he was trying not to break down. His face crumbled with the pain of knowing and seeing how much he had hurt the man. His throat closed up on him and he watched silently as Mycroft struggled to get his piece out, each word feeling like a penance on Greg’s soul, but necessary ones. He had screwed up, he knew that.

And the truth was, he had given up. On himself, on any ability he had to protect and provide for Mycroft and his daughter. He gave up on even trying to get through his rut to be there for them and there was no way he was ever going to forgive himself for that. But after the (incorrect) news story about the capture of the Omega Killer, he had just snapped, he felt like. All he knew was that he had to get himself as far away as possible and disappear into obscurity a worthless old man.

“I don’t know why,” he said, his voice cracking but he did nothing to try and cover it up. “I’m a miserable bastard, Myc. I know this. What I did, God I can’t even explain what went on in my own head but I know I’ll never forgive myself for what it did to you. And I’m glad too, that you, for some reason, haven’t sent me straight out the door.”

“I’m letting you stay not just because I need you, but because I care about you, Greg. If you haven’t gotten over whatever it was you were dealing with, I want to help you with it. We might not be mates, but I still care about you a great deal. Seeing you so emotionally distraught had me very worried. So, if you’re still having problems, I want you to talk to me. That’s the first step you’re going to have to take if you want to earn back my trust. I want to know if you feel like just up and leaving again or anything equally drastic and I want us to talk about it. Because honestly, I don’t think I could handle that again.” Mycroft sighed, running his hands over his stomach. The baby girl had been rather riled up when he’d thought Greg was an unknown intruder, but she had calmed some since.

“We can talk more in the morning. Frankly, I haven’t slept properly since you left, even less since my brother sent me that damnably vague text about staying inside and safe. Despite it all, you being here puts my mind at ease and I certainly need the rest seeing how I’ll be giving birth in about two weeks.” The Omega stifled a yawn, feeling it would cheapen the point

“You look like you could use a good night’s sleep as well. My sofa is yet again open to you. Though first, I think I’ll have some herbal tea to help me get to sleep. No point in going through the trouble of boiling the water and getting the cups out if we aren’t going to use it.” This time the elder Holmes couldn’t hold back a yawn. He really just wanted to crawl into his bed, but the water had already been heated anyway, so might as well use it.

“Probably best to wait til morning to try and crack my head open,” Greg conceded softly, turning around when Mycroft yawned to fuss about the tea and pretend he hadn’t seen it for prosperity sake. He knew how Mycroft didn’t like to show weakness and probably thought Greg witnessed enough of that. That and making tea, even Mycroft’s herbal stuff, was soothing.

“And I will try,” he promised as he poured the water over the tea bags, the steam rising to curl around his face. “To talk. Never really been good at trying to figure myself out though. I’m good with other people, it’s what I do, or did, but...” He shrugged, unable to really find the words to finish the sentence properly.

The tea bags seeping, he brought their mugs to the table then turned back around to grab fixings like sugar or honey, mostly for himself. He still needed some kind of a kick from his tea even if it was from sugar instead of caffeine. Not that he needed it, God knew he should probably sleep for a week.

“But one thing I will promise, I won’t run off like that again. I’ll make myself stop and think first or I’ll have the decency to hand you your umbrella so you can knock some sense into me.”

Mycroft smirked at that, taking his teacup and wrapping both hands around it carefully, gazing down into the ruddy, raspberry lemon herbal for a long moment. It made him think back to that first meeting in the café and how sterile and tense it had been. And how much it had changed since. The whole emotional whirl wind that had consumed them, taking them through ups and downs and everything in between. He knew for a fact that what he felt for Greg was far stronger than what he had initially.

A pang hit his chest when he realised it. They were equal now. Yes, Greg had left without saying anything, betraying Mycroft’s trust and hurting him deeply, but… Mycroft had done exactly that as well. His own betrayal towards Greg is what had gotten him pregnant in the first place. The deed had come full circle. He’d gotten what he’d deserved. His shoulders hunched, he took a sip of his tea before glancing back up at Greg.

“Like I said, I’m glad you’re back.. and I’m glad you’re willing to talk to me. Talking’s going to be important, even after she’s born. We’re still going to have to communicate with each other, seeing as we’re having a baby together.” He put the cup down, settling his hands on his stomach. “She’s moving a lot less these days whenever things are calm. She’s got a lot less room… This is the home stretch. She’ll be born in less than a month, and I’m really not sure what to make of that.”

Greg swallowed his too sweet tea with a little bob of his head. He still couldn’t shake the feeling of being adrift, even after being back at the townhouse. Whether he was off or what, but he couldn’t read Mycroft well enough to know exactly where he stood outside of Mycroft being glad he was back, at least for the baby’s sake. So until he had better grounding, he figured it was best to be agreeable and not give into the impulse of getting up to rub Mycroft’s shoulders or his stomach, acts that he realised how badly he had taken advantage of.

“Well, the nursery is ready at least. We have enough nappies and supplies to last us a bit. The least we can say is that we are ready for her as supplies go,” he said reassuringly.

“But really, you shouldn’t be worrying about anything until after you get some sleep and after fucking up your sleep schedule, it’s my job to make sure you get some proper rest. ‘Cause right now you look...” Greg paused, remembering the last time he had told Mycroft he looked horrible. Which he did, bags under his eyes, a haggard look about him, pain readily available in his eyes from the lack of sleep and being eight months pregnant. Mycroft needed a full night’s rest, not to be insulted.

Greg’s face softened to something fond, or as fond as a man could look with a black eye, and a slight smirk played at his lips. Judging from the look he was already getting he was going to catch hell anyways, but in for a penny. “You look radiant.”

\--

The last two weeks had been… odd since Greg had come back. Things were a little tense still, but not in the usual way. Greg was being affectionate, but.. not in the way he usually was. He would help Mycroft with his back or if the baby was kicking, but he wasn’t being himself when he did. It was like he went out of his way to try to ease every discomfort Mycroft was experiencing, constantly asking him if he needed anything, and it was getting on Mycroft’s nerves. He didn’t need a butler, especially if it was Greg.

But, he put up with it, because he supposed it was just Greg coping with everything and trying to set things right. But… after two weeks of that and his due date tomorrow, he was really, really not in the mood.

The baby had finally shifted into the birthing position, which made it easier to breath, but made his waddle even more pronounced. However, he wasn’t showing any other signs that labour might be approaching aside from the occasional practice contraction, which he’d grown used to. He’d been having them for a while and since he’d known what they were in advance, he hadn’t been particularly worried. They didn’t bother him all that much after all. Still, he was getting antsy. He’d have thought he’d have experienced something by now. And with his anticipation wearing down on him, Greg’s ‘helpfulness’ was fraying his nerves.

What’s more, the man had failed to mention that the Omega killer was still at large. When Mycroft had finally gotten enough energy to read over the report, it had been obvious Smith was innocent. It explained Sherlock’s text as well as some of the worry he’d seen in Greg’s eyes when he’d first returned. Still, Mycroft didn’t have the heart to bring up that he knew. The killer was a sore spot for Greg and Mycroft wasn’t about to drag up that bag of angry cats again. The killer would be caught soon enough and Mycroft was being careful, having not left the house once. If the killer ever _did_ target him, there would never be a chance to make their move.

Mycroft sighed and rolled his shoulders as he returned from the kitchen with a little something to eat and settled down on the sofa. Greg was off doing something somewhere in the house, but he would be back shortly. Mycroft shook his head. More likely than not, the man would make a fuss that the elder Holmes hadn’t let him get the snack for him. It was things like that that grated on him. Being nine months pregnant didn’t make him an invalid.

“In case you notice and worry about it, I moved the dresser in the room to the other side of the wall. I noticed the other day that you could have knocked into it and it has sharp corners,” Greg said as he walked out of Mycroft’s room while wiping his palms across his thighs. The heat still found a way to creep in on him at times, that or he wasn’t willing to admit that even moving a dresser was starting to become enough to make him sweat. He’d rather blame it on the summer heat.

He wiped his brow while joining Mycroft in the sitting room, immediately noticing that Mycroft had to get up to fix himself something to eat, making Greg feel guilty that he hadn’t been paying attention.

“And hey, you can just holler to let me know if you need something you know. Really Myc, I don’t want you getting up unless you absolutely have to.” He knew he was lecturing, but Greg was worried and the last two weeks had only been manageable because he had been useful to Mycroft. Making sure he and the baby were doing well was not only a good distraction, but it kept him on his feet and made him feel like he was making up for the five days that he had swanned off on the man.

A muscle twitched in Mycroft’s face as he listened. So, apparently, not only had he correctly deduced exactly what Greg was going to say about getting himself something to eat, since the Alpha had been so damnably, annoyingly predictable about being helpful, but he’d moved Mycroft’s dresser when the Omega was hopefully only going to be pregnant for a day or two more. Perfect. Just.. perfect. The man grit his teeth, glaring up at the DI.

“Gregory, I can make myself something to eat just fine. I understand you’re concerned and yes, I am almost due, I’m just as nervous and excited as you are and I’m a little worried as to why I haven’t shown any signs yet, but I’m still a person and I can do things for myself. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, trying to do everything to the extreme but I swear to God, if you don’t stop, I _will_ deport you!”

Having just fit himself into the chair by the sofa, Greg’s jaw came unhinged at the threat and for a few minutes all he could do was stare. He was just trying to be helpful. Useful. Maybe he was overdoing it but did Mycroft really have to snap at him. Could he even do that? And who threatened with deportation anyways?

“But... could you...” Greg’s mind tripped a bit because yes, Mycroft probably really did have the power to boot his arse to another country if he so wished it. “You really wouldn’t do that, would you?” Honest to God worry thread into his tone because Mycroft looked like he really was tempted to send Greg to somewhere like Russia or possibly even Greenland. Or even Canada.

Mycroft let out a short breath of air through his nose, putting his food to the side and settling his hands on his stomach. He could do it, God he could, and he was actually tempted to do it as well if Greg was going to continue to act like this. The man put on a calm face, looking Greg over with a cool look as he raised an eyebrow.

“I hear Argentina is very nice this time of year.” He replied smoothly, only looking vaguely amused.

Greg felt the blood drain from his face. Mycroft looked honestly serious. About sending him to Argentina. Why the hell Argentina? Or anywhere. He shifted in his chair, more like fidgeting really, his hand which were gripping the arms of the chair sweaty again. It wasn’t like he had been trying to annoy Mycroft. Not on purpose.

“Well, what do you want me to do? I don’t feel like I’ve made up for my stupidity yet, Myc. Just tell me what it will take for you to forgive me. Hopefully not involving sending me to Argentina,” he internally winced at how high his voice went and the fact that he knew he was pouting and being petulant at being told off.

Mycroft’s false calm slipped away, showing his very real irritation once more. The Omega crossed his arms, shaking his head. It was obvious that he was going to have to lay it out for Greg.

“Gregory, causing more stupidity doesn’t make up for stupidity. You’re cheery helpfulness is about as enjoyable as having one’s teeth drilled. If you want to make up for swanning off for five days, you can start by just being yourself again and stop acting like one of those cheery nurses that work at homes for the elderly. I didn’t let you back for you to be someone else.”

Greg’s shoulders slumped and he dropped his hands to his lap. He stared at his battered hands, rough and scarred from years of use since he couldn’t look Mycroft in the eyes any more. He didn’t think he had been that bad, just worried, but as he thought about it, he probably had been a bit too worried and in Mycroft’s personal space. He gave a small nod to show that he understood.

“Okay, okay. I’ll knock off the mother henning. I just... “ Greg looked up Mycroft once more, resigned. “I screwed up Myc. I know I did. Honestly, I don’t even know why you let me back at all.”

After a moment, Mycroft’s posture mirrored Greg’s. It was like the man didn’t even know, despite the pain he’d caused, what he meant to Mycroft. The Omega’s features softened as he looked over Greg’s form. They still had a few things to work on if they wanted things to be right between them, but… they were getting there. And things would go better once Greg stopped trying to be the world’s best nanny and just became Greg again.

“Because I need you. Not just as the father of our daughter either. Yes, it hurt me when you left, it hurt more than anything I’ve ever experienced, but the fact that it did in the first place... It went to show that I care about you more than anyone who isn’t my brother. That says something and if I can’t find it in myself to give you another chance, because you are a good man, than I’m no better.” Mycroft paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. “I miss you being you.”

Greg’s brows shot up in surprise, his chest going all tight and a warmth spread through him. He didn’t know how much he had needed to hear that until Mycroft said it. While the Omega had said something similar to the effect of caring about Greg the night of his return, they had both been exhausted and overly emotional. Now, there was little doubt in Greg’s mind that Mycroft was absolutely sincere and for once he didn’t seem to be worrying about damn hormones.

But what the hell was he to say about that? He sat back, biting on the inside of his cheek while inadvertently staring at Mycroft’s lips. He really just wanted to get up and kiss the man senseless to show his gratitude, and more, but that didn’t seem appropriate. But he couldn’t really think of much of anything else. It was a miracle that he managed to lift his eyes up to meet Mycroft’s at all.

“I... I really want to kiss you right now, I’ll be honest. But I don’t know if I’m allowed. And thank you. For seeing some value still left in me that you can let me back in your life.”

Mycroft let out a soft breath, slowly getting up and walking over to where Greg sat, leaning in so they could see eye to eye despite the strain it put on his back. The Omega closed his eyes for a moment before opening them and keeping Greg’s gaze, reaching forward to cup his cheek.

“You have more value than you can imagine. Not just to me either. You’ve saved my brother’s life on more than one occasion and countless others just by what you do. Even though you can’t save all of them, you’ve saved more than if you’d never done anything at all. You have value. And right now, I need you just to be you.”

The man leaned in further, gently pressing his lips to Greg’s in a chaste kiss that lasted only a second. When he pulled away, he offered the man a soft smile before straightening himself and leaving the room, needing to use the loo. Hopefully, that would get through to the man. Mycroft was willing to forgive the man, as soon as Greg allowed himself to be forgiven.

After that wonderful bit of surprise, Greg had forced himself to behave. He still twitched every time Mycroft got up, but eventually found things to do around the house so he kept out of Mycroft’s hair. Cooking dinner definitely proved to be a good distraction when he actually used a complicated recipe. Apparently when Anthea did the shopping, she bought out a store, ensuring that he never had to leave for ingredients. He had been a bit miffed when Mycroft had preferred her to do the shopping over him the last round, but now Greg had no complaints and a full belly.

By time to call it a night though, he was unable to get comfortable on the couch. Mycroft had retired not too long ago, and the tension between them had finally dissipated back to the comfortable familiarity they once had, but he was still ansty. With the baby due any day, technically tomorrow, he couldn’t help but want to be near Mycroft in case anything happened.

So that was his excuse, Alpha instincts had kicked in, to explain why he finally gave up trying to rest and in pants and a shirt, crept up to Mycroft’s room. He debated knocking but it was likely that Mycroft was asleep so he instead crept the door open. Just a peek, he told himself. Make sure Mycroft was sleeping fine then back to bed so he could rest up.

Only, when he opened the door and poked his head in, Mycroft was clearly still awake, sitting up in bed and reading. When their eyes met over the book and across the room, Greg’s face flushed with embarrassment. “Um...” No other words were forthcoming. Eloquent, thy name was not Lestrade.

Mycroft glanced up, raising an eyebrow before putting his book down to the side. He’d learned early on that setting things on his stomach just tended to slip off awkwardly if he so much as shifted. Currently he wasn’t really in the mood to get up, nestled comfortably against a pile of pillows to support his back, but the least he could do was ask.

“Can I help you with something, Gregory?” He asked calmly, genuinely curious. Greg usually didn’t come in unless he had a reason. Looking at his expression though, the man seemed sincerely embarrassed to have been seen. Had Greg… been checking on him?

Greg winced and probably blushed harder. Almost every night he had checked on Mycroft before he went to bed so of course the one night he had promised to knock off the mother henning he got caught. Of course.

“Er...” He closed his eyes for a brief pause and told himself to stop being such an idiot. “I was just... checking on you.” Because that wasn’t overly obsessive worrying at all. Greg sighed and knocked the side of his head against the door, though lightly. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you. Just wanted to see that you were alright before I went to bed. Please don’t deport me to Argentina.”

Mycroft chuckled and rolled his eyes. So Greg had been checking on him. At least he’d admitted it. Any other day, it might have gotten on his nerves, but Greg had been doing better about the nursemaiding since they’d talked and he reminded himself that the Alpha did have the right to worry a little. Mycroft was due anytime now.

The Omega smiled slightly before looking down at his hands. “It’s alright. I’m not going to deport you. You’re entitled to worry a little bit as long as you don’t over do it.” He told Greg with another light chuckle. Closing his eyes a moment, he then looked back up, his features soft. “I don’t mind.. I’ve just.. I’ve missed us being close, like we were before we all started having problems, as unfortunately short as that time was... so.. If you’d like.. Just join me. I’m tired of sleeping alone.”

A shock of surprise rang through Greg and he tried really damn hard not to perk up like an eager idiot, though her was pretty sure that his face betrayed him. He at least knew better by then not to ask if Mycroft was sure, knowing that it would only annoy the man and likely get him back to thinking about deportation. “I’d like that,” he said softly then let himself in the room.

He slid under the covers a little awkwardly. When they had been sleeping together he had had no qualms in sliding right in and getting as close as he was allowed. But he didn’t know all of his allowances yet so instead he kept to the edge of the bed, giving Mycroft some space.

“And I missed that too. The closeness. I’m sorry I let things slip and I know I haven’t been making it easier on you. But I have been saying for a while now that I am a bit of an idiot.”

“Well, I wish I could say things will get easier for us, but I honestly can’t, because I’m under no delusion that me giving birth is going to be easy on anyone until she’s born.” Mycroft replied, light amusement in his voice. Frankly, the impending birth was very intimidating and he’d decided recently to educate himself about what he was in for. Reading other Omega’s tales had left him very pale and not wanting to touch his computer for a day.

“But... I want things to go well between us and that means rebuilding the bridges we’ve damaged. We’ve got to start somewhere..” Sighing softly, Mycroft went to turn out the light, settling back and closing his eyes, when he realised something.

“Gregory... you are allowed to touch me.”

Greg winced again and kept his eyes closed in his embarrassment. He just couldn’t seem to get anything right lately. “I’m being an idiot again, aren’t I?” he asked, just brave enough to pop one eye open to see Mycroft’s expression.

Mycroft smirked.

“You can be, but I suppose I’ll manage somehow.”

Greg rolled his eyes and mentally kicked himself. He scooted closer, though a bit awkward still, until he was comfortably pressed up against Mycroft’s side. The man’s pheromones washed over Greg like a tide and something just unwound inside of him. He felt his body relax muscle by muscle as he breathed in Mycroft’s scent and didn’t think about crossing lines or anything like that when he gently wrapped his hand over the curve of Mycroft’s belly.

“I was thinking today. Think it’s too late to get one of those tiny little bassinets? That way we can have her in the room for the first couple of weeks. If you’d like that? We can always get the ninja you call an assistant to pick one up for us,” Greg said softly into the sleeve of Mycroft’s pyjamas while feeling his body slowly start to drift off.

“I don’t think it would be too late, especially if Anthea takes care of it. I rather like the idea of having our daughter close for the first few weeks.” He murmured, feeling drowsy himself. Just having Greg so close again was nice and he was exhausted as per usual. Soon he closed his eyes again, just glad to be in Greg’s arms once more.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In most cases, things must end for something new to begin.

Mycroft let out a frustrated sigh. He knew he wasn’t technically overdue until he passed two weeks after his due date, but still. He was just ready to stop being pregnant, but his due date had passed without a hitch. Now, a week later, he was still pregnant and even more ready for their daughter to be born.

The man groaned and leaned back against the sofa cushions, mopping his brow with the back of his hand. He just had to be due in the middle of August, didn’t he. Everything was aching and he often felt overheated despite the attempts of the air conditioning. There were days he would even go so far as running himself a cool shower and just sitting there for almost an hour under the spray to try to cool down.

Between the heat and lack of the presence of a baby, Mycroft was getting very frustrated, everything getting under his skin. Things between him and Greg had slowly slipped back to being mostly normal, but for the past few days he’d snapped at the Alpha whenever the man tried to touch him unless Mycroft said he could. After he’d calmed down a little, he’d gone on to explain that it wasn’t Greg’s fault, he just really didn’t want anyone touching him.

The Omega leaned his head back and rested it on the crest of the sofa, closing his eyes with a soft whine. He hadn’t been all that pleased to find out, from Greg having a helpful moment no less, that it was common for pregnancies to last longer if it was the pregnant person’s first child. Mycroft had wanted to scream. If their daughter didn’t get here soon, he was going to go insane.

Right now, he was just trying to relax. He’d been dealing with some indigestion and it had finally settled down some. Enough for him to try to get comfortable and maybe have a cat nap. His energy had been up and down between restless and exhausted which in and of itself had been tiresome. Now, in the heat of the day, he’d claimed the sofa for himself and settled in. Strangely enough, he couldn’t care less if Greg joined him or not right now. He was getting comfortable and a belly rub actually sounded rather pleasant with how his muscles were aching. Then again, he’d be perfectly happy if he just was left to relax as well.

Greg emerged from the kitchen with a plate of chilled pineapple and flipped the small fan that Anthea had brought by earlier on his way over to the sofa. He knew by then to just do things, small, unobtrusive things, like hand Mycroft lemon water or small snacks instead of pestering the man. The pineapple was to serve as more than a snack though, but Mycroft didn’t need to know about that.

“You probably already know, but according to Anthea the home office is starting to turn into a zoo without you,” he said as he dropped onto the couch, a safe distance from Mycroft, with the plate in hand. He nudged Mycroft with it but otherwise knew not to outright order him to eat. “I think she is about to go on a murder spree, frankly, and I do not feel sorry for the poor blokes who gets in her way.”

As much as he feared the woman though, she had been his saving grace since his return to the townhouse. Especially lately as tension was high over the baby coming and Mycroft had been on the edge. Greg had been in the rocking chair, the nursery having been his sanctuary for the past five days from the wrath of Mycroft, when he had received a text from Mycroft’s ninja reporting that she was at the door. Mycroft was either in the shower or plotting world domination in the room when she came by, so he was none the wiser of Greg’s plotting.

Mycroft let out a huff of air, glancing down at the plate, before giving Greg a look and shaking his head. He was really not hungry, especially not for something so acidic after he’d just gotten over his indigestion. He accepted the water thankfully though, sipping carefully. He hadn’t been feeling particularly hungry today, putting it down to the heat.

“You think I don’t know that? If it weren’t for Anthea, those fools would let all of England fall.” He grumbled, shifting against the cushions. Everything felt tight and sore and he was ready for it to be over. “But there’s little I can do about it right now. I can hardly go back to work with the little one due so soon… I can barely tolerate looking at reports without getting a headache. I’ve all but given up. I have more important things to worry about anyhow.”

The Omega grimaced as he gently rubbed circles on his achy, stretched stomach before glancing at Greg. “You have no idea how ready I am for this to be over, Gregory. I’m almost tempted to start trying those old wives tales of yours about inducing labour. I never thought I’d be impatient to give birth..”

Greg nudged the plate against Mycroft’s thigh once more before putting it down on the coffee table. “Well, you can start on the pineapple if you’re that desperate,” he said, admitting  that he had been trying to sneak one of his ‘solutions’ but it wasn’t like Mycroft wouldn’t figure it out later. Most of the things Greg cooked for him lately was something he’d been told helped with labour. Because frankly, they were all desperate. Greg wanted their daughter in the world too, but mostly, he was just as done with Mycroft being pregnant as the Omega himself was. Argentina started to actually look pleasant by that point.

“Though if you’re really desperate,” he gave Mycroft a suggestive look while half tensing in case a pillow came at his face. Since making things up, they almost had sex, almost because the attempt had been a disaster and then Mycroft went into a ‘don’t touch me’ stage, broken only when he needed a back rub. Not that Greg had been hard up for sex, that was one good thing about being as old as he was, but mostly he missed the cuddling without the complaints about body heat and what not.

“Pineapple? Really Gregory?” Mycroft pursed his lips, looking disdainfully down at the plate of yellow fruit. He swallowed thickly before shaking his head once more. “I’d rather not. I’ve been having some stomach trouble and I think the acid would only aggravate it. I’d really rather not…” He shifted again, pulling a face when he realised he had to use the bathroom again, just when he’d gotten comfortable too. Rolling his eyes, he slowly pulled himself up from the sofa, his hands instantly at his back.

“I’ll be right back… My stomach bothering me has been having more than one ill effect… I think my body’s getting fed up with being pregnant as much as the rest of us..” Scowling, he waddled to the loo to relieve himself. It was downright irritating how much more discomfort he was having to go through the closer he got to giving birth.

Once he was finished, he returned to the sofa, feeling even more uncomfortable than before. “Alright.. so enlighten me on your other labour inducers. I’m tired of this. Not sex, I’m not up for that, but I want this to be over. What other ideas do you have?” He tried to relax again with little success. If this continued, he was just going to go to bed, try to take a nap. The man took a few deep breaths, finally settling and feeling a little more at ease.

Greg swept his hand at the pineapple. “An upset stomach is sort of the point, Myc. Spicy food, pineapple, castor oil, it all upsets the bowels to induce labour. As unpleasant as it sounds, stomach cramping will turn into contractions and finally get the ball rolling and luv, you need all the help you can get at this point. Besides, I chilled the fruit. Should help with the heat a bit.”

He waited until Mycroft was settled before he risked life and limb to scoot in close so he could give Mycroft a belly rub. He also lived in perpetual hope to see a hand or a knee bulge out, but she had been pretty still lately, stuck in the upside down position even though she seemed to not want to do anything else to indicate that she was ready. The doctors were already making noise about Mycroft being induced, which Greg would rather they bypass entirely.

“Or maybe she is just waiting for us to agree on a name so she isn’t ‘baby girl’ when she is born,” he added with a meaningful look at Mycroft. By that point, Greg was willing to agree to any long winded name just as long as Mycroft stopped changing his mind. “Anneliese Gwennivere is still my top pick, just so you know.”

Mycroft sighed, rolling his eyes. Back to the names were they? “Admittedly, Anneliese Gwenevere is my own preferred name as well, I’ve just been trying to test other things as well, but nothing else fits. Since we both like it, that’s what we’ll settle on unless we feel inspired by something else once she’s born.” He said with a nod, glad they could at least come to that conclusion.

“Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I’m actually giving you a chance to tell me your other out there wives tales about inducing labour. I’m vetoing giving me an upset stomach. I’m already uncomfortable as it is. I’d rather not have to deal with more until I’m actually in labour. Sex is still out because while I am enjoying your belly rub, I don’t think I would enjoy much else. I’m convinced I’m too big at this point for it to be pleasurable. So any other ideas would be much appreciated.”

The Omega leaned back and just focused on Greg’s hands on his swollen, tight belly, finally able to relax the most he had all day under the Alpha’s ministrations. It was like a breath of fresh air. They were getting fed up with the situation and a little contact sometimes helped. Other times it just made Mycroft want to rip Greg’s arms off, but fortunately for Greg, today was not one of those days.

“Not much else to suggest,” Greg said with an apologetic shrug. “Sex is out, I’ve tried the belly massages that the website recommended until you decided you didn’t like being touched at all and the only thing left besides acupuncture,” he said in a way that conveyed he knew that wasn’t an option. “Only walking is left, but it’s not a bad idea. It’s starting to cool down a bit and you could use the fresh air. I’ll pack our own water though.”

The only reason why he hadn’t suggested walking first was because they were both reluctant to leave the house, not just because of a potential threat. Greg tried once to leave a week ago and nearly decked someone at the grocery store just because he didn’t smell right. The longer he was away from Mycroft the more he grew anxious, and apparently Mycroft hadn’t been much better. While they would be together on the walk, there would still be dealing with all those people near Mycroft but they really were desperate to get the baby out.

“Gregory, I’m not going outside. While I’m not opposed to the idea of walking around, I’d rather not be around other people, especially in this heat, even if it is ‘cooling down’. I’m gargantuan and the last thing I want is others seeing me, especially since I’ll likely be panting and sweaty in minutes. No, if I’m going to do some walking, I’ll do it around the house. It’s comfortable, private and I can sit down if I need to.” The elder Holmes sighed, settling back a little more.

“I’ll start tomorrow. Right now I’m rather tired. If walking around does trigger labour, I’m going to want to be rested.” He pointed out. “Also, I really think the last thing we want, if we were to go for a walk now, is me going into labour while we’re a decent distance from the house and then have to get me back while I’m _in_ labour to wait it out and get the hospital bags and just, no. I’m not comfortable with that. Any walking I do, I’ll do here.”

The man finished his water, setting the cup to the side. “I’m ready for her to be born, but at the same time, I don’t want to do anything rash. I want to be at home, with you when it starts. I also don’t know what I’d do if one of your solutions did trigger labour. As much as I’m ready for it to happen, I think a big part of me is still very intimidated by the prospect of giving birth.” Mycroft let out a long sigh. “But, walking seems harmless enough. I’ll start tomorrow, as I said. If that doesn’t work, well.. I don’t know what we’ll do. I certainly don’t want to induce chemically. I suppose once I get a good night’s rest, I may be more willing to try some of the other things you’ve suggested. Does that sound alright with you?”

Seeing that Mycroft wasn’t going to try them, Greg popped a slice of pineapple in his mouth as Mycroft spoke, just managing to swallow in time to answer. “It sounds fine. But I think you will be fine, Mycroft. With labour and all that. While men in general are just not meant to have kids, you’re an Omega. You were built for it. And I’ll be there. I promise.” He gave Mycroft’s big belly a comforting rub from crest to bottom in between tiny circular motions that were meant to sooth.

“But maybe we should call in an early night, yeah? I’ll make an easy meal that won’t upset your stomach then we can hunker down in bed for a bit.” He kept his expression open and reassuring, just trying his best to be an anchor for the Omega, though recently he had been thinking about something that had been worrying him.

“And uh, when you’re in a better mood for it, there has been something I have been meaning to talk to you about, but there’s no rush, alright? When you’re feeling better. It can wait.”

Mycroft looked a little uneasy. “I’m really not that hungry, but I suppose I could manage a little something. I suppose I do still need to eat after all. But just something light.” Recently, Mycroft’s appetite had declined drastically, but he still forced himself to eat small portions to stay healthy. Today was one of those days that he was going to really have to work hard to get food down, especially with the on and off indigestion.

“And I don’t mean to sound rude, but if whatever it is you want to talk about is important and will take time and thought to discuss, I’d rather wait until tomorrow. I wouldn’t do it justice right now, seeing as I’m completely exhausted. I’ll have whatever you make for me as long as my stomach agrees with it and then I fully intend just to get comfortable in bed and just sleep as long as I can. Tomorrow will be a fresh day and I’ll likely be more up to both talking and walking alike.”

The Omega rose from the couch once more at an excruciatingly slow pace with a short grunt. Pausing to catch his breath once he was on his feet. Not being able to get up without making a fool of yourself was definitely something he wasn’t going to miss. Turning, he offered Greg a small smile. “So, to the kitchen?”

Greg helped Mycroft to his feet and made sure he was ready to catch if the poor man over balanced. While he would rather get things off his chest then, he had said only if Mycroft was in the mood for it. He supposed it could wait until the next day.

"Yeah, come on. I'll make you some tea while I fix something up. I'm thinking just a light sandwich or something. Nothing too heavy or hard to make." He placed his hand at the small of Mycroft's back to help herd him into the kitchen. He was going to miss small things like that when this was all over.

\--

No matter what Mycroft did, he couldn’t get comfortable. The man shifted again in bed, trying to relax with little success. He’d woken up an hour ago to use the bathroom after getting about four hours of sleep and he just couldn’t get settled again. The Omega shifted once more, wincing, and tried to focus on the soft snores of Greg sleeping soundly beside him. It almost worked when his back throbbed, pulling him back out of the lull.

Restless, the man finally just got back out of bed again. He needed to move around. His back was bothering him more than usual, making him wonder if he’d pinched a nerve in his sleep. Taking a few deep breaths, he left the bedroom and went into the den, pausing to turn on a few of the softer lighted lamps. The man then proceeded to walk around the living room, feeling rather disoriented from time to time.

Things just felt warm and tight and achy and he just couldn’t settle. He sat down a few times only to get back up again soon after, despite the pain in his back. The pain was deep and low and uncomfortable, but walking seemed to alleviate it some. Once it eased off, he would be able to go to sleep again. Unfortunately, the indigestion was coming back, this time making him feel a little ill. The Omega took a few deep breaths and continued to move around.

Greg had the tendency to cuddle in his sleep, always turning to the warm spot, so when his body rolled into an empty space instead of his big, squishy space heater of a bed partner, he woke up immediately. He shot up, getting a bit tangled in the bed clothes in his initial panic. It shouldn’t be a big thing, but there was no sounds of Mycroft using the toilet so sleepy and waking up alone, Greg immediately panicked.

“Mycroft!” He cursed at the duvet as he untangled himself from the bed then made a straight line for the door. At first he couldn’t tell that there were lights on outside of the room until after he was out of it already, but the soft glow and Mycroft’s loud breathing soon reached him and turned off the switch in his head that made him assume the worse. Now winded from being an idiot, he leaned up against the wall and watched the Omega pace around with his hands to his back looking more done in than normal.

“Hey, you alright? Gave me a bit of a scare when I found you out of bed,” Greg said, bit breathless. He took a deep breath then pushed off the hallway wall to walk over to Mycroft to make sure he was alright. Or to get him back in bed. Like Mycroft had said earlier, he needed to rest up for when the baby came.

Mycroft looked a bit spooked from Greg’s worried exclamation from the bedroom but calmed down a little when Greg did. The Omega swallowed thickly and stopped his pacing for a moment, trying to catch his breath, offering Greg a half-hearted smile.

“My back’s just bothering me more than usual, I’ll be fine. I just wasn’t able to sleep. I suppose I’ve just gotten antsy and need to move around a little.” He managed before making a face and waddling over to the sofa and sitting down, rubbing his back near his hips where the ache was. “I think I may have pinched a nerve. The pain’s a little warmer than it usually is.” The man settled back against the cushions for a moment, his head leaning back, a light sweat on his forehead.

“You go back to bed, I’ll be back in a minute once it settles.” The elder Holmes took a few more deep breaths, the ache having yet to recede. He had to admit, something just seemed off about this. Biting his lip, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was going into labour. Things just felt tighter than usual and the ache was deeper. He’d generally avoided the labour and birth bits of his research when he’d first done it, but now he was realising he may have made a mistake in that decision. Still, there was a chance it was nothing as well. He’d give it a few more minutes before he started worrying.

Like Greg could possibly go back to bed. "What do you mean warm?" He asked suspiciously. He joined Mycroft on the couch so he could rub the man's back. "Like where's the pain exactly? A tight, throbbing pain that's warm low in the back is a pretty good indication of labour from what I read."

He wriggled his hand between the couch and Mycroft's back to see if he could find the troubled spot. "You been complaining about indigestion all day. Was it indigestion or cramps? Some people don't actually realise they're having contractions when they hit. Not saying you don't know your own body but..." He trailed off, giving Mycroft a worried look.

Mycroft wet his lips, instinctively cringing when Greg went to touch his back before finally nodded, looking a bit worried. The pain was low in his back, exactly like Greg had described. Before he could answer, his muscles tightened uncomfortably, the pain in his back wrapping around his abdomen more noticeably. He grit his teeth through it, breathing heavily afterward.

“I’m fairly sure you’re right about this being labour…” he murmured, his throat feeling tight, a mix of emotions bubbling up. He forced them down, trying to keep calm. “I’m fairly sure what I was feeling earlier today really was indigestion but this.. is definitely different…” He tried to keep his breathing controlled, his stomach churning and rebelling against the small amount of food he’d consumed. The added anxiety didn’t help.

“Gregory… oh God, I think I’m going to be ill…” The man struggled to his feet, hurrying to the kitchen, not even aware if Greg helped him there or not. His only instinct was to get to the sink before he threw up on the carpet, making it just in time. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to burn his throat and make his eyes water. His mouth tasting disgusting, he clutched at the counter, gulping down air, looking shameful. “God… I…apologise.. Really not feeling well all of a sudden.” He was feeling a little faint as he closed his eyes and just tried to breath, fear, nervousness and excitement slowing creeping up on him. This was really happening.

As soon as Mycroft was on his feet Greg was scrambling for his mobile. Because Sherlock had a tendency of texting him at all hours he kept his phone by the sofa when he slept with Mycroft. Now he was really glad for it. First order of business: text Anthea.

_It's happening. - GL_

It wasn't even a full ten seconds before he got the affirmative. They had talk in length about her being the one to drive them so he one, didn't have to get the Audi reupholstered, and so he could be in the back with Mycroft. Also, he didn't trust himself to drive.

"Okay, Anthea's on her way. She'll let the hospital know to expect you," he said as he joined Mycroft at the sink, immediately going to rub his back. "Everything's shifting in there, this is probably normal." He was pretty sure he read about nausea during labour but right then it was hard to remember. It was hard enough just to remember how to take calm breaths. Finally, finally their baby girl was going to arrive. God he wasn't ready.

Mycroft’s head shot up, looking distressed when he heard the word hospital. He had the modesty to rinse his mouth out and wipe it off with a paper towel before addressing the point though. “Gregory… we talked about this.. I don’t want to have to go to the hospital until I absolutely have to. At most until my water breaks and that could be for hours. I’m barely even having full on contractions yet!”

It was obvious that the man was panicking, grasping to remember what they’d planned and distressed why they didn’t seem to be following it now. He was still holding on to the counter with one hand for balance looking distraught and confused. He just wanted to go back to bed. He wasn’t ready for this. He didn’t want to go to the hospital. The Omega started to hyperventilate a little, his legs trembling.

“I need to sit down… now..” The man wobbled over to a kitchen chair, sitting down quickly. His heart was pounding in his chest, his hands plastered to his belly. He knew he needed to calm down, but he just couldn’t, the mix of his growing discomfort and the whole situation spinning everything for him. He closed his eyes and tried to block everything else out, just focusing on trying to steady his breathing. He needed to calm down… He was going to be all right, he just needed to breathe.

Greg gripped onto the sink behind him as he watched worriedly as Mycroft rushed to sit down. Seeing Myc panic was doing absolutely nothing for his own nerves. "Myc, I know the plan luv. You are going to have to go to the hospital sooner or later. Anthea and I can't exactly deliver the baby here, now can we? And I don't think anyone but her is going to survive coming through that door."

The doctors had warned them already that neither of them were going to be too friendly and having an outsider step into their home while Mycroft was in labour would set off Greg's protective instincts. Home births only worked if they got used to the midwife around the home throughout the pregnancy and they hadn't gone down that route. So home birth was not going to be the best option unless there was no other choice.

"She and the hospital just need to be ready for when you are. So right now please breathe because you're going to scare the crap out of me. We've been through this, we can do this, Myc. Just take deep breaths, okay?" He pushed himself off the counter to be at Mycroft's side for whatever the man might need of him.

Mycroft nodded, feeling calmer once it was explained to him, if not a little silly that he had panicked about it. Greg was right, he was going to be fine. He was an Omega after all. They would go to the hospital when he was ready, that probably being when his water broke, which he was fairly sure he’d read can take time. “Maybe you could just text her that we’ll contact her once we’re ready to go. It’s nothing against her, but I’d rather not have anyone but you around until I’m ready. If that’s not too much trouble.”

Steadying his breathing, his panicked adrenaline rush waned away, leaving him feeling more cramped and uncomfortable. The man bit his lip, rucking his shirt up to uncover his swollen belly, gently rubbing into the agitated muscles. Despite calming down to a degree, he was still nervous and uncomfortable, but the excitement was starting to level out as well. Their little girl was finally going to be born.

“It’s a lot to comprehend, isn’t it?” He asked quietly, looking up at the Alpha, managing a small smile. “I suppose it feels a lot bigger than I thought it would. I’ll be fine though. I know these coming hours will be one of the most uncomfortable, if not painful things I’ll have ever experienced, but it’s not like I can back out now. Besides, the end result is going to be worth it. It’s going to hurt and I’m not looking forward to that, but by the end of it, we’ll have our daughter in our arms.” The Omega’s expression softened as he talked, mainly to try to calm himself more than Greg. Mycroft closed his eyes again to focus on his breathing.

“I’m going to need you with me through this, Gregory.”

Greg sent a quick message to confirm that Anthea didn’t mind waiting in the car. He knew this could take hours but he liked the idea of having her near, just in case. The woman was a reservoir of knowledge, contacts, and a scary good driver.

He then knelt down at Mycroft’s side, placing one hand gently over his stomach where he could feel their daughter. He was a wreck on the inside, with all the jumbled emotions of becoming a new dad, but his gaze was steady when he looked up at Mycroft. Under his palm he felt a flutter, a tiny shift from his little girl that made his chest swell tight with emotions.

“And I’m going to be there with you for every second of it, Myc. Nowhere else I’d rather be, you know that, right? I...” He swallowed down the words he had been wanting to say for a while now, deciding against the timing. His throat was tight with the knowledge that after Anna was born, he might still not get the chance to say them, but he pushed that aside to deal with later. “I’ll be right here, at your side. I promise.”

Mycroft nodded again, smiling at Greg. He just had to make sure. The man’s face pinched when another cramp wrapped around his belly, this one deeper and longer, squeezing completely around his abdomen, likely the first of many legitimate contractions. It was extremely uncomfortable and it didn’t help him any to know that they would steadily get worse with time. He let out a long breath through his mouth when it released him, sliding his hands over Greg’s.

“Thank you.” He murmured, feeling calmer knowing that Greg was going to be there the whole time. Really, he’d already known, but it felt better to hear it out loud. After a moment, he squeezed the Alpha’s hand before got up again, feeling the need to move once more. “I need to walk. It seems to help a little. Takes my mind off of things.” He told the man, his hands rubbing at his back once more before heading out of the kitchen to resume moving around the den. It was a pattern he was probably going to continue throughout the night and early morning.

“I might try to get some more rest later, but right now I’m just too on edge.” God, he was warm. The heat and physical strain was getting to him, but he knew he just had to muddle through it. It wasn’t going to get any better until the little one was born. “I may need a little help getting around here and there so stay close.” He hoped Greg would understand that that was his way of saying he wanted the Alpha’s comfort while he walked.

Greg frowned when his knees creaked as he pulled himself to his feet. God he was getting old. "So as long as you don't get on me for hovering. Just remember you asked me to this time," he said. Greg filled two glasses of water to have on hand and carried them to the sitting room with him while he stood on standby, fighting a yawn all the while. It was going to be a long night.

"Maybe you should try a nap," Greg suggested around a yawn and hour or so later. Maybe two hours. The sun was just starting to light the sky through the window, indicating dawn. It had been a constant parade of Mycroft walking around, taking small rests on the sofa until his back yelled at him for the position then back to his feet. Greg didn't envy the poor man at all. He felt dead on his feet and he wasn't the one about to pop.

"The contractions seem far apart still. You probably have a while until we have to get you to the hospital." To fight off his own exhaustion he went to the front window to check on Anthea. She was right out front in the black car, going at it on her phone like usual. Without even looking up at him she raised a coffee cup in hello. Greg waved back because she would know somehow that he did before returning his attention on Mycroft.

“That sounds like a good idea.” The labouring Omega nodded, a fine sheen of sweat collecting on his forehead. He could use with a bit of a lie down at this point. It would be a good idea to get some rest while he still could. The man painstakingly made his way back to his room while Greg was likely waving at Anthea. “I’ll be in the bedroom.” He told him before retreating to his soft bed. Greg could join him or leave him be, but either way, Mycroft needed rest.

Now that he’d gotten a little more acclimated to the discomfort and had worked out some of his restless energy, he was able to drift off rather quickly and though his sleep was fitful, he managed to get in a few more hours rest. He was nestled against his pile of pillows, hands cradling his stomach, the covers thrown off and his face flushed with discomfort. If Greg had joined him, he hadn’t noticed, his body taking over to make sure he got some of the sleep he needed.

He awoke to an odd sensation, discovering his pyjama pants and the sheet below him to be damp. At first, he thought he’d lost control of his bladder, but after a moment, he realised what had really happened. His amniotic sac had ruptured. Closing his eyes, he swallowed thickly and evened his breathing, feeling his skin warming. He did remember this part. Now that his water had broken, he would be entering a heat-like state, developing a light fever and starting to produce more lubrication to help ease the birth of his child. It was time to go to the hospital. Taking a few more deep breaths, he called out.

“Greg? I need you in here. Now!”

Greg shot up from the couch, not remembering having fallen asleep. He was up on his feet the next instant, banging his shin on the edge of the sofa as he ran to Mycroft’s room. “Everything alright?” he asked, panting and hopping on one leg at the door. It took a moment for the scent to hit him and for him to register what was going on. He didn’t know how to explain it, but before Mycroft could actually confirm it, he just knew that the baby was ready to come.

“Oh shit.” He forgot about his sore shin in the adrenaline rush of panic and excitement as he hopped to Mycroft’s side. He could see the giant wet spot on the bed as he held his hands out to help him to his feet. “Oh shit. She’s ready, isn’t she? This is it?”

Mycroft nodded as he took Greg’s hands to pull himself up with a grimace. His cramping was worse, causing him to lean heavily on the Alpha once he was up, cradling his low stomach. He took a few breaths, ignoring the sheen of sweat on his body. There was a deep pressure on his pelvis now. Yes, their little one was definitely coming.

“Yes, she’d ready… Get the hospital bag. And.. maybe some sweats or something. My trousers are damp and uncomfortable…” He realised belatedly that he would have to sit back down to put new trousers on and he was already up and they should really get going. “Actually.. just get the bag. They’ll put me in one of those hospital gowns when there anyway.”

The man then suddenly gripped Greg’s arm before he could do anything, a contraction curving over his abdomen. He barely remembered to breath, squeezing his eyes shut with a grunt until it passed. They needed to get moving. Get to the car, get to the hospital, get this over with. And by then end of it, they’d have their baby. 

The man tried to push himself off of Greg so he wasn’t putting most of his weight on the man and started towards the bedroom door. Greg just needed to get the bag and they could go. The Omega swallowed again, grimacing. He wanted it all to be over already and this wasn’t even the worst of it. They’d get through it though. He could do this.

From that point, everything seemed a bit of a blur to Greg. By the time he helped Mycroft out to the car with the bag in tow, Anthea was already outside of the car with the doors open waiting for them. Then all Greg really got was holding onto Mycroft during the car ride and probably reminding him to breathe too many times, but it helped Greg remember not to hyperventilate himself.

Then they got to the hospital and everything worked like a well-oiled machine. There were two people waiting with the wheelchair, both women and Greg didn’t detect a scent that threw him off with them. The tall one that pushed the chair made soothing noises at Mycroft while the short stout woman at their side asked clipped, to the point questions to make sure everything went as smoothly as possible. Which was a good thing since no matter all of Greg’s planning and preparing, the second he realized they were going to have their baby girl soon his brain sort of went offline.

“Your room has been prepped Mr. Holmes. Exchange your clothes for the gown on the bed and the doctor will be by shortly. From here you should only see me, Nurse Williams, and your doctor. If any of the staff disturbs you or your mate, there is a button on the bed for you to call someone in,” Nurse Granger said as they reached the room.

The whole car ride had been uncomfortable and Mycroft was having difficulty listening to the nurses as they wheeled him in, wrestling with another contraction. The man grimaced, one hand gripping the armrest of the wheelchair, the other plastered to his belly. He didn’t know how long this was going to take; he just hoped it wouldn’t be much longer.

The Omega blinked once they were in the room, taking in the soft tones as he was wheeled to the bed. The contraction having released him, the elder Holmes stood carefully, one arm wrapped under his belly as he sat on the edge of the bed. He just wanted to lie down again, maybe try to get some more rest if he could, though he doubted it. He also wanted out of his uncomfortable nightclothes.

The tall nurses patted him on the shoulder and asked him if he wanted any help with his gown. Mycroft shook his head. If he needed any help, he would ask Greg. He didn’t want anyone touching him but Greg. The nurses said something else to the Alpha before leaving them alone. Mycroft glanced up at the man, unsure what to say until the dampness of his trousers got too much and he slipped out of them, his shirt and pants coming after. It wasn’t like Greg hadn’t seen it all before.

“Gregory... Do you think… you could help me with putting on the gown? I know I could have had the nurse help, but…” Mycroft grimaced, not finishing his sentence, just trying to breath.

Glad that the nurse was finally gone, Greg gently pulled the gown out of Mycroft’s hands and shook it out to make sure the thing was untied. “Hey, it’s what I’m here for Myc. Anything you need, you just ask, alright?” He helped Mycroft into the starch blue fabric, reaching around to loosely tie it. Mycroft hadn’t been told that he couldn’t tie it.

“There,” he soothed, sitting down next to Mycroft and running a hand down his back. “The nurse told me that they are going to come in and do some tests, check on the cervix and all that, but they think it is still going to take a while. There was mention of having to fill out some paperwork but I doubt they need me to do that right now.”

Greg leaned in closer so that their shoulders were touching. While everyone on the maternity ward staff appeared to be using suppressants, he could still smell other Omegas and possibly an Alpha. Frankly, just the idea of having anyone else but Mycroft near him was irritating. He wished they could handle this on their own since he wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t punch the next person who touched Mycroft, but they really had no choice.

“So I’m here. You just tell me what you need.”

“Right now, I’d rather like to lie down. I may feel the need to move around again later, but right now… I just want to try to get comfortable. Though I’m starting to think that may be impossible at this point.” Mycroft gave Greg a small smile, though it was obvious he wasn’t feeling great at all. The man had fully developed the light fever that came with the second stage of Omega labour, his skin slightly flushed and sweat coating his skin.

“Actually… some water or even just some ice chips would also be appreciated. I fear I’m already a little dehydrated…” The Omega scooted over a little on the bed, leaning back against the upright mattress. Between a sit and lying down, it was actually a little more comfortable, though not much. Mycroft pressed both his hands to his belly, realising they’d gotten one of those medical bracelets on his wrist without him noticing. The man shifted a little before sighing.

“So this is it…” He murmured, glancing up at Greg. Today, they were going to become parents. Mycroft didn’t know if he was ready. He didn’t know what it felt like to be ready for this sort of thing. He was having a baby. An heir to his family name… except… it was so, so much more than that now. He was having his little girl. Their little girl. He hadn’t thought about her being his heir for a long time. She was his daughter. That he was now having with a man who he originally had seen as only a sperm donor, but now…

Mycroft bit his lip and closed his eyes, another contraction swelling up. They were about five to ten minutes apart from what he could tell, but he wasn’t really keeping track. His muscles tightened, the deep cramp only releasing him after a minute or so. He still wished it would go a little faster, but that didn’t seem like something he could just force.

“This is it,” Greg agreed as he looked around the room in the hopes of finding some water or ice chips so he wouldn’t have to leave the room. After making two rounds, he finally had to admit defeat. Before he went to the door though he turned around and gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

“But hey, we’re as ready as we can be and we can do this. It’s going to be fine. Yeah, okay, labour is going to suck, I won’t sugar-coat it, but I promise it will be worth it. Once you get to hold your baby girl you’ll forget all about the pain.”

At least that is what he certainly hoped for. He turned back to the door to ask for some water just to almost get hit by it. A nurse walked in with a tray of medical utensils that made Greg’s stomach churn at the sight of them. He didn’t know what they were and didn’t want to find out.

“Alright Mr. Holmes, we are going to check how far along you are and see what we can do to get things going a little smoother. Now just lie back, I’ll have you place your feet in the stirrups to help keep your legs spread. It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

Mycroft just nodded and did what he was told, glancing at Greg. The Omega had never been fond of internal exams and he got the feeling that this one was going to be even more uncomfortable with contractions thrown into the mix. Still, he wasn’t about to fight it.

Leaning back, he focused on the ceiling as he let the nurse spread his legs and manoeuvre them into the stirrups, trying to ignore how exposed he felt. The man eventually just closed his eyes and rubbed his swollen belly, trying not to think about any of that. It didn’t last very long though once he felt gloved fingers slide into his wet and open hole, causing him to cringe.

He didn’t want to be here. He just wanted to go home and give birth there. Why hadn’t he put more thought into a home birth? He really should have because hospitals were downright unpleasant even on a good day and today wasn’t even that seeing as he was extremely uncomfortable and was wearing a rather unfortunate gown. It took all his will power not to jerk when something cold and metal was slid into him.

Fearing that his eyes might pop out if he continued to watch what the nurse was doing to poor Mycroft, Greg moved to the head of the bed and reached down for Mycroft’s hand to give him something to squeeze. Mycroft didn’t look like he was in pain, just uncomfortable as hell. Not that Greg blamed him, he was uncomfortable just from watching, he couldn’t imagine how Mycroft was feeling.

“You’re still only at eight centimetres, but it won’t be much longer. I’d recommend walking around a bit if you can, or maybe doing some squatting exercises with your mate’s help,” the nurse said as she removed her instrument. Greg decided not to correct her on the whole ‘mate’ thing. Again. If Mycroft wasn’t going to, he didn’t see any reason for it.

“Oh hey, could he at least get some water or ice chips? He’s been complaining that he’s a bit dehydrated,” Greg said. The nurse looked up at Mycroft with a little frown then stood. Greg wasn’t sure what the frown meant but she didn’t look happy when she pressed her thumb into the crook of Mycroft’s elbow, leaving a stark white print that lasted for a few seconds.

“I’m afraid that I’m going to have to use an IV with saline Mr. Holmes. You are more than a little dehydrated. But I will also bring a glass of water if your mouth is dry. I recommend very small sips as not to upset your stomach.” Greg rubbed his thumb over Mycroft’s knuckles in silent apology while the nurse left the room. Being told that he would have to get stuck with a needle probably wasn’t a comfort.

“A glass would be appreciated…” Mycroft mumbled as she left, pulling his feet from the stirrups and trying to cover himself with the flimsy gown before giving up and pulling the sheets from the bed on top of himself. He then glanced at Greg with a sigh. He wasn’t really all that bothered to learn he needed an IV. It was the best option considering he was now having difficulty keeping anything down. He still wasn’t fond of the idea though.

The elder Holmes opened his mouth to say something, when another contraction took hold of him, unconsciously squeezing Greg’s hand as it constricted his belly. The Omega ground his teeth. They were only getting worse. Still, he soldiered through it and tried to keep his breathing even, an occasional grunt escaping his lips. Only once it released him, he sat there numbly for a moment before remembered what he was going to say.

“Ah, yes… Have you my any chance contacted my brother yet? It’s a least we can do to inform him that he and John are going to become uncles in the next few hours...” He mumbled, looking a little put out. The last thing he wanted to do was inform his snide little brother that he was about to messily and painfully expel a child from his body, but family was family and that family was about to become a little bigger, so it was rather necessary.

Greg grit his teeth against the grind of bones in his hand from Mycroft's tight grip. If he wasn't careful the Omega might actually break his hand. Wouldn't that be something? When Mycroft's grip relaxed, Greg barely stopped himself from pulling his hand away and shaking it.

"Yeah. They're apparently on a case in Soho but they are on their way. They should be here soon," Greg said, though he wasn't sure if that was a good thing. As much as he liked them, the last thing either of them needed was for Sherlock to get in their hair and find ample opportunity to stress Mycroft even more. "When the nurse comes back in I'll ask her if she can make sure that no one, not even family, are allowed in without authorization."

Right after he said that the nurse returned with an IV bag but Greg didn't get a chance to talk to her. Granger came in right behind with a stern look that Greg didn't like. At all.

"Detective Lestrade, am I correct in saying that you and Mr. Holmes are not actually bonded?" Greg's stomach dropped at the coldly spoken question. The hell?

"Yeah, but..."

"It's as a feared," she cut him off with a curt nod. "I need you to come with me and sign some paperwork. Without the proper paperwork you are not cleared to be in this room since you are not legally bonded with Mr. Holmes."

Greg's hand slipped out of Mycroft's as he rose to his full height in indignation. Mycroft was right on the verge of having their kid and they wanted to pull him away over bureaucratic bullshit? He never heard anything more ridiculous.

"Are you bloody kidding me? I'm not leaving now! He needs me!" Greg instinctively balled up his fists and growled down at the woman, but she was clearly not intimidated.

"Sir, if you don't not leave with me I will have you escorted out of the building and you will not be allowed to return. At all. I suggest that you choose wisely, Sir." Greg's jaw began to drop then he threw his hands up in the air.

“I can’t fucking believe this!"

“Gregory, just go. It’s paperwork. The sooner you’re done, the sooner you can come back. I still have a few hours to wait anyhow.” Mycroft said sternly from the bed, sitting up to let the nurse insert the IV and attach the bag. His face was calm and his eyes, serious. “I’ll be fine. Just go with her. I’ll just rest for a little while. If Anthea’s out there, you’ll be able to clear this up even faster. Just… please.”

The last thing Mycroft wanted to see what Greg thrown out. He needed the man, but he’d need him even more once he entered active labour. Greg getting banned from his room was not going to be an option. Not for him at least. As far as his body was concerned, Greg was his Alpha and when hard labour hit, Mycroft was going to not want anybody but Greg touching him.

He looked to the nurse, his eyes cold. “You make sure that he gets everything filled out in the quickest and easiest manner possible. I need him and you all will have quite a lot of difficulty with me when I start actively giving birth if he’s not here. I assure you that that idiotic law will have some changes made to it by the end of the month too. It’s preposterous. I should be able to choose, who I want here and who I don’t. The only reason we aren’t mates is because I was already pregnant with his child, or we would have already.”

The last words he said calmly, but his features were softer. The Omega then looked away, lying back down. He gave Greg a small nod, encouraging him to go get the needed papers filed out, hoping Greg would leave so he could think about what he just said. He was in a rather emotional situation, his hormones at their highest… and yet… he couldn’t deny how true his words felt. Somehow, he could honestly see that if Alphas and Omegas could bond at any time, he and Greg would likely already be mates, with all they’d been through.

Greg had wanted to protest out of principle but Mycroft’s words took the breath right out of his lungs. He went stock still yet pliant with shock. Did Mycroft just say what Greg thought he did? No, Greg was pretty sure that Mycroft just said that they would be mates if circumstances were different. That was... God. He really hoped it wasn’t hormones talking because if Mycroft ever took that back it would kill Greg.

“Inspector Lestrade?” It was Mycroft’s nod rather than the nurse’s impatient tone that had Greg turning towards the door. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled at Granger and let her lead him out. He had one eye on Mycroft’s profile though and luckily he didn’t walk into anything as he followed the damn nurse out.

He was just about to close the door after him when he turned around, gripping the door frame tightly. He stared at Mycroft and licked his lips nervously. “We’re uh, we’re going to talk about that, right? Cause I’m not going to let you take that back Myc. Not if I can help it.”

He tapped on the frame once then swiftly left before the nurse could badger him any longer. So help him if they tried keeping him too long he would give them a reason to kick him out of the hospital. After hearing that, he was even more agitated to be away from Mycroft than he should be because dammit, as far as he was concerned, as far as _they_ were concerned, Mycroft was his mate and Greg needed to be in there.

Mycroft inclined his head with a small smile at Greg’s words, watching him go. The other nurse followed them out, leaving Mycroft alone. He didn’t really mind though. It would give him a chance to get some rest. The Omega sighed, carefully cradling his stomach as he closed his eyes. If anything, he needed to think.

What he had just said, he meant. At least, he hoped he did. Greg had worked himself into Mycroft’s life in a way that Mycroft had never experienced before. He’d never been close to anyone like he had with Greg. The man meant a great deal to the Omega and now he was realising he didn’t think he wanted to be without that. They did what normal couples did, the rather extreme dramas to the side. When they were together, it was comfortable, with warm touches and teasing, easy words. He liked being around Greg.

He just didn’t trust himself. He was pregnant and carrying a child could do funny things to a person. Mycroft had never felt how he did around anyone, so he had no way of knowing if it was the changes to his body that were causing it, demanding he be near Greg or if it was how he really felt. He would have to wait. Not long though, just enough to get the pregnancy hormones out of his system. He and Greg would talk about it and they could go from there.

Mycroft relaxed a little, smiling as he rubbed his thumb over his belly. Their little Anneliese would have a much better life if they were together, not having to go between parents throughout her childhood. Still, they would have to wait and see how things turned out.

The Omega finally drifted off into a light slumber. With so much going on in his body, it was fitful, but he was able to get some rest, a few contractions coming and going. He wasn’t really sure how much time passed, but thankfully the nurses didn’t seem to be bothering him, likely seeing that he needed rest.

So when a scent touched his nose, he stirred a little, but wasn’t too bothered. Other Omega’s passed from time to time. It was a maternity ward after all. Or... he shouldn’t be bothered, except…

Mycroft drowsily shifted, his eyes still closed as the scent intensified. Something seemed wrong with it. Whoever it was, they were having some sort of severe hormonal imbalance. Mycroft felt a little sorry of them, but couldn’t help but be bothered by it too.

So when he felt something nudge him, the scent extremely close, Mycroft’s eyes shot open, utterly startled by the fact that there was someone right beside him without a scent masker fiddling with his IV. It took him mere seconds to register that the wrong scent was coming from this person in his room and his mind went into high alert and he panicked.

“Who are you?!” The elder Holmes almost yelped, scrambling as far as he could away from the man on his bed without falling off, his IV tugging painfully. The wrong smelling Omega just glanced at him and smiled, lifting a syringe to a break off tube on his IV, about to put something into it.

“Just adding a painkiller to your solution Mr. Holmes. Nothing to worry about.”

 “Stay away from me.” He hissed, though he was terrified on the inside. He had no idea who this was, he couldn’t focus. But he did know he was about to be dosed with an unknown substance that he doubted was a painkiller. His nurses had said they would be the only people aside from Greg and his doctor. He knew his doctor, and this man was not him. Mycroft was off the bed in seconds; his IV ripped out and arm bleeding, staggering away from the man. The man followed him.

“I don’t think you understand, Mr. Holmes. I have to give you this.” Mycroft shook his head, backing up, one arm under his belly to support it, his fear growing as he felt another contraction coming on. Mycroft put his other hand out as the universal sign of ‘don’t come closer’, still backing up. The man kept walking toward him, the syringe in hand. It was only then that Mycroft actually paid attention to his face.

“You.” Mycroft’s heart raced. He did know this man. And- Oh, God. It all made sense. “Edward Cooper... I know you. You’re… Whitman’s Omega.” The Omega smiled toothily.

“You remember me? I’m flattered. People like you tend to forget the faces of the people’s lives you ruin. Makes it hurt less. That’s what Alex did anyway. Forgot. Until you ruined our lives that is. We have nothing now. I have nothing actually.” Cooper continued to walk towards Mycroft, backing the pregnant Omega against a wall. Mycroft shook his head, his words lost as he glanced towards the door. He was cut off.

It was then the next contraction gripped him painfully. His legs wobbled and he stumbled, unable to brace himself against the wall and slid down to the floor, his body shaking. He needed… He needed to get away from this man. This man was..

“Aw, look at you. The needy little bitch is about to whelp.” Cooper squatted in front of him, a dark glint in his eyes. “You ruined me you know. So, I thought I’d return the favour. You see, I can’t have children and when an Omega can’t give their Alpha children, the Alpha becomes receptive to other Omega’s in heat again. Even more so than usual even. If that precious DI of yours hadn’t gotten to you, my mate would be the father of that cherished little pup inside you.” The Omega wet his lips, grinning again as he looked at Mycroft like he was a piece of meat.

“So I had to think of the perfect way to get revenge. And it occurred to me. Make his pregnancy be his downfall.” Cooper held up the syringe, smiling at it fondly. “It took a while to perfect it. A lot of test subjects too. No one’s ever been smart enough to figure out it was me though. Not even you or your brother. I guess the famed Holmes intelligence is just a lot of hot air. A bit disappointing really. Even after I tried to dose your tea a few months ago, you still didn’t realise it. It would have worked too if that dumb bitch hadn’t dropped the cups. Oh well.” He shrugged, carelessly gesturing with the syringe. Mycroft just sat there, panting heavily and not saying anything. The more Cooper talked, the more likely someone might come to check on him. While that was his hope, it was slowly dying. Cooper sounded like he was finishing up.

“It doesn’t really matter now though. You’d be surprised how easy it was to get in here though. If you hadn’t woken up, I could have just dosed you and left. Sadly, scent blockers don’t really work for me anymore. That’s what happens when a bond is as badly broken as mine and Alex’s is.” The Omega shrugged, trying to grab Mycroft’s wrist. The elder Holmes pulled away and tried to struggle to his feet only to have Cooper strike him harshly in the face.

“Did I say you could move? No. I didn’t. Now give me your wrist, you little slut. This stuff is pure. You’ll only suffer for about an hour or so, I promise. Now stop moving.” Mycroft continued to struggle though, shaking his head and lashing out.

“No… please.. Leave me alone…” It was then a powerful contraction claimed him and he knew he was done for as he felt Cooper take his wrist, as he couldn’t struggle as his belly squeezed him painfully. Mycroft closed his eyes, letting two tears streaming down his cheeks. When anyone returned, the Omega Killer will have struck again, Mycroft and his unborn daughter being likely what would be the killer’s last victims.

To his dying day Greg would likely never forget the crunch of metal and bone from slamming the fire extinguisher right into the side of Cooper’s skull. The hit had been true, Greg had not held back at all, and Cooper crumbled to the ground like a rag doll. The syringe fell with a clatter then rolled into Greg’s shoe. The only thing that stopped him from stomping onto it was because it was evidence.

But that didn’t matter right then. The fire extinguisher dropped with a resounding clang and Greg was quickly on the floor next to Mycroft, frantically searching him for injury. His face was red from being slapped and Greg couldn’t honestly tell if the blood on his arm was from getting the IV ripped out or from Cooper having actually stuck him.

“Did he get you? Oh God Myc, tell me I got to you in time, please!”

Greg was shaking from head to toe from the heady mix of fear and adrenaline. He had been in the middle of signing the damn paperwork, each page more preposterous than the last and trying not to wish a violent death on Granger when a cold chill had gripped his chest. He couldn’t explain it for the life of him but he knew instinctively that something was wrong with Mycroft.

Ignoring the nurse’s questions, he went straight to the room where he had found the Omega from the cafe months ago looming over Mycroft with a syringe. Greg had lost it at Mycroft’s tearful plea. He didn’t think, just grabbed the nearest thing that could be used as a weapon and went straight for the bastard’s soft spot on the side of his head. Cooper would be down for hours if he got up at all. Greg just didn’t know if he had got there in time.

Mycroft was in shock, his entire body shaking when from one minute he was so sure he was about to die and the next, there had been a sickening metallic sound near his face and when he’d opened his eyes, Greg was there beside him and Cooper was on the floor with a fire extinguisher next to him, thrown to the side. He looked blankly at Greg for a long moment, barely able to breathe. Finally, he registering what Greg had said and all but collapsed forward onto the Alpha, holding on to the man for dear life.

“No… he didn’t.. it was the IV… it.. it was the IV… Oh, God… he was going to kill me…” Mycroft couldn’t control it, shaking horribly with tears streaming down his face. He was in pain and he’d almost had a deadly poison injected into him by a deranged Omega and… and… he just couldn’t cope right now. He had been trained to resist torture, but that required a certain mind-set that he had not had. He just couldn’t handle any of this.

The Omega gripped Greg’s arms, crying out as another contraction came down on him. Other people were rushing into the room, their scents hitting his nose and all he could do was cry into Greg’s shoulder as intense pain gripped him. He wanted to get away from everyone but Greg, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. He wanted to go home and have their daughter and have everything be all right. He couldn’t think. He just wanted Greg and their daughter and nobody else. God, it hurt.

Greg immediately wrapped his arms around Mycroft when the man broke. He pressed his face into Mycroft’s sweat damp hair and subconsciously rocked them slowly while Mycroft wept into his shoulder. There was a deranged Omega bleeding out on the tile next to them and he could hear the rush of feet as people entered the room but it wasn’t enough for him to let go.

“I got you love. I’m right here. I’ve got you.” Greg whispered while fighting back tears himself. He felt like he was on the verge of collapsing himself but Mycroft needed him to remain strong so he did. Even when people were demanding answers and asking frantic question. He held a palm up to stall them because damn it, Mycroft needed a moment, but he did look up when he registered Sherlock and John’s presences.

“The police are on their way. Greg, you need to get Mycroft back on the bed. They need to check him over. Please,” John said in the calm, commanding way that doctor’s had. Right then he was the only one Greg would have listened to.

“Get everyone but Mycroft’s doctor the fuck out of here. And someone call the police!” Greg growled. It was a wonder how fast even Sherlock went to comply. Greg returned to burying his face in Mycroft’s hair until only Mycroft’s doctor and John remained outside of them. The Omega was gone. Greg didn’t care if they had dragged a body away or not.

“Okay love, we have to get you up okay? Doc’s got to check you and the baby over. We need to get you on that bed, Myc. I promise, I’ll be right here. I ain’t leaving for nothing this time.”

Eventually, Mycroft managed to calm down, but his legs wouldn’t move even a little between the pain and the shock ad everything, so he just sat there, feeling pathetic in Greg’s arms. He wiped his face with his hand, not sure what to do. His heart was still racing and breathing was hard. He was going to need Greg’s help. Thankfully, they’d gotten rather good at getting him places while he was handicapped from his time with his broken ankle.

“Gregory… I need you to help me up…” He said hoarsely, aware that the doctor needed to check him over for his and their daughter’s sake. He wrapped one arm around the back of Greg’s neck, the other under his belly, which was much lower than it ever had been. “It will be like how we did it when I broke my ankle…” The Omega tried to get his breath, unsure if he would even be able to manage that. Everything hurt, but the bed would be more comfortable.

“I know. Come on, we got this,” Greg gently urged. He had an arm around Mycroft’s back with a firm grip under his arm and the other adding support to his stomach. He didn’t need to be an expert to know that Anne had dropped even lower. From the looks of it, he would guess that Mycroft was in hard labour, induced by stress and the thought honestly freaked Greg out. How he managed to sound calm was beyond him.

With a grunt he got Mycroft onto his feet, but that didn’t last long. Greg felt the moment Mycroft’s knees buckled and reacted without hesitation. At the risk of throwing his old back out he lifted Mycroft into a bridal carry and got him onto the bed himself regardless of the looks or the lecture he might end up getting from the Omega when this was all said and done. Mycroft should just be glad that Sherlock hadn’t been there to witness that though it appeared the ‘baby brother’ had high tailed it out of there with everyone else. 

“Alright doc, you can stop gaping and check my family out now. I think he’s about to have this kid and if someone doesn’t catch her, I’m liable to hurt someone. And John, get a bloody scent masker on or I’m going to punch you in the face on the account that you’re an Alpha near my pregnant mate,” Greg grumbled, reacting strongly to the other people in the room. Next time, God if there was a next time, they were doing a home birth. He was so fucking done with all the bullshit.

Mycroft couldn’t care less when Greg picked him up, and that was saying something. Right now, he was having contractions so close together that it just all hurt. He was just glad to be off his feet, so he just clung to Greg as best he could until he was settled down on the bed. He tried to breathe like he’d always been told, but now he was seeing why it was always so emphasised. It was hard to breath normally like this.

Once lying down (which he found was rather uncomfortable now) the Omega grimaced and placed both hands one his belly, his head tilted back. He was sweaty and he didn’t like how the gown felt on his skin around his stomach. Despite all the things bothering him, the Omega still jumped when his doctor took a step towards him, only then noticing that John had already left.

“Mr. Holmes, I need to check your progress. I know you probably don’t want anyone touching you beside Detective Inspector Lestrade right now, but I need to see how you and the baby are doing. It won’t be long and I won’t be doing anything invasive, I promise.” The doctor sounded like he was talking to a scared animal, but Mycroft just nodded. However, he still shied away from the man’s touch without even thinking.

The doctor sighed and looked to Greg. “I know you probably don’t want me touching him anymore than he does, but I assure you, I am an Omega and I am a doctor who took and follows the Hippocratic Oath, I have no interest in harming you, your mate or your child. Right now, he just needs something else to focus on while I check to see if the baby’s still in the right position and how close he is to giving birth. Maybe if you got behind him and gave him something else to think about, talk to him, that would help distract him.”

Damn right Greg didn't want anyone touching Mycroft. Each time Mycroft had flinched Greg had been seriously tempted to punch the arsehole but that would have meant letting go of Mycroft. But then the doc's words actually registered and Greg gave a jerky nod. It wouldn't be right to hit another Omega twice in one day, though Cooper was lucky that Greg had stopped with one hit.

"Yeah. Alright." Keeping his hands on Mycroft at all times, Greg shifted onto his knees and got behind Mycroft, urging him up a bit then down to rest against Greg's chest. He slid down until his knees were bracketing Mycroft's hips and got his arms around the Omega's shoulders. He got his nose right at the crook of Mycroft's neck and finally felt a knot of tension start to unwind.

"Come on, give me your hands. Give ya something to squeeze. Doc's going to make sure everything's all right so he can help you bring our little girl in the world. I won't let him hurt you love, I promise. I got you. Everything's going to be alright."

Mycroft leaned back against Greg’s chest, reaching up and taking his Alpha’s hands, his finger’s curling around the DI’s. He was away that the doctor was suddenly right next to him and he still recoiled when the man touched his stomach, but it had to be done.

The Omega turned his head, touching his nose to Greg’s shoulder and taking in his scent. It helped distract him from gloved hands sliding over and then under his gown over his low belly. The contractions were becoming a constant, Mycroft getting not relief at all. He just wanted to go home. At least Greg was here.

“Fortunately, she’s still in the right position and you’re close. Actually, you’ll likely start feeling the need to push soon if you aren’t already.” Mycroft had been feeling a weighty pressure pushing down on his pelvis for about the last five minutes, but it hadn’t turned into the need to push just yet.

John came back in, his scent fully blocked soon after, Mycroft tensing up, his eyes snapping to the other doctor. It was only when he registered who it was that he was able to relax again. Well, he relaxed as much as one could in hard labour anyway. The Omega squeezed Greg’s hands, trying to be mindful and not hurt the man, but it was hard. Any calm he might have had had died with Cooper trying to kill him. He was running on instinct.

Greg bit down on his tongue to keep himself from growling when John walked in, making Mycroft tense up again. Greg was going to start taking heads if people didn't leave them the hell alone so Mycroft could concentrate on squeezing their melon sized child out of a hole the size of a penny. Even without his Alpha instincts kicking in, he was running out of patience.

"While I appreciate the scent masker Watson, is there an actual reason for why you're here?" Greg growled in the crook of Mycroft's neck. He had a feeling if he met another Alpha's eyes, even John's, that he was going to pounce and get the threat away from his Omega.

"Um. Yes. Actually, yes. The Met's here. They have the killer secured though he is still out cold. They are going to transfer him to another hospital for obvious reasons. Um..."

Finally losing his patience at John's stammering, Greg looked up over Mycroft's shoulder to glare at the Alpha. John was gaping at Mycroft; worry etched on his face and it really riled Greg up to have John looking at his mate like that.

"Get to the point, Watson!" John jerked, his body snapping to attention instead of cowing at Greg's hard tone. Greg in turned tensed, ready to take down the little man if it came to that.

"They want to ask you a few questions. I know the timing's not ideal..."

Greg didn't let John finish because the doc was trying to say something to Mycroft and dammit this was not a good time. He flung his hand out to point at the door.

"Out. Now." It was a damn good thing that John still knew how to follow orders. He promptly turned around and left, leaving Greg feeling like he could breathe again.

He understood why John was anxious about Mycroft. Vaguely, he would understand a lot better once his brain wasn't flooded with Alpha hormones and Mycroft's scent. Mycroft was an unbound pregnant Omega in distress. Greg got it. But Hell be damned if he didn't bite Mycroft the first opportunity he got so everyone bloody well understood that he was Greg's Omega.

Mycroft was tense for the whole exchange, able to keep himself together, even when he felt a deep press downwards onto his pelvis. The moment John was gone, the Omega’s eyes clenched shut and he let out a pained moan, squeezing Greg’s hands tightly. He was definitely starting to feel the need to push now, though on his back, he could barely feel the muscles he was supposed to squeeze. It just felt wrong. But he supposed that little felt right about pushing something so large out such a small hole.

“Gregory… God.. I can feel her.” He choked, his hands trapping Greg’s in a vice-like grip. He drew his legs up and apart, curling forward a little as he tried to follow his instincts and push, but nothing happened. His doctor was watching him carefully, obviously aware that Mycroft was pushing.

“Mr. Holmes, do what feels natural.” He told the Omega quietly, not touching him, for which Mycroft was grateful. “I suggest you find a position that works for you, because once you engage the head, you aren’t going to be able to move.”

Mycroft nodded, stopping his strained pushing that was getting him nowhere, trying to think what would feel right to him. It certainly wasn’t on his back. Sweat dripped down his face as he panted, soft pained noises leaving his lips. Finally, he shifted up, lifting himself from his Alpha’s chest and turning a little. “Greg… help… help me turn over. I.. I need to get on my knees.”

Greg made a sound of protest when Mycroft started moving but he soon got with the programme. He shifted back to give Mycroft room to move while getting on his knees as well. Hooking his hands under Mycroft's arms, he slowly pulled him up.

"Lean into me. Don't worry about putting all your weight on me, I got you. I won't let you slip," he coaxed. He moved closer, folding himself around Mycroft like an embrace. It was going to be a hell of a strain on his back later, but right at that moment all that mattered was getting Mycroft into the best position for pushing Anna out.

"This good? Just tell me what you need, love. I got you. I promise." He kissed Mycroft's temple and rubbed his back a little. He could feel the tension thrumming under Mycroft's skin through the thin fabric of the gown. He had to be in so much pain. "You're amazing, you know that? Just a bit longer. You can do this."

Mycroft settled against Greg’s chest, putting most of his weight on the man as he gripped his Alpha’s arms and rested his head on his shoulder. He was still feeling the need to push, but he didn’t just yet, shifting a little more as he tried to find the right spot. His knees were spread apart, digging heavily into the bed. “I’m… this… this is better. I think.”

Still he couldn’t quite focus, his gown sticking to his stomach. Finally he couldn’t take it and reached down, rucking it up above his swollen, pained belly before collapsing back against Greg’s chest, his fingers digging into the man’s shirt. God, it hurt, it hurt and he just wanted it to stop.

The need to push became stronger and much harder to ignore so Mycroft followed it, pushing with the constant contractions as he pressed the side of his face against Greg and grit his teeth so hard he could hear them squeak. He tried to focus on Greg’s touches as he felt the head of their child begin to move down as he pushed and strained.

When that happened, it was hard to focus on anything but pushing, even though it felt like he was being split apart. The Omega bore down, a cry of pain leaving his lips as his entire body shook from exertion. He had never experienced anything to excruciating in his life. He was clinging to Greg like he was the only thing left in his existence. The back of his mind told him it would be over soon, but he didn’t notice it. All he knew to do was push.

Greg closed his eyes against Mycroft's cries and pressed his lips at the man's temple. He held on tightly, holding Mycroft through what was likely the hardest time of his life. "I got you," he whispered over and over, hoping his voice was enough to anchor Mycroft through this.

He kind of drowned everything out doing that, just barely aware of the doctor crooning encouragement among Mycroft's pained sounds. It hurt Greg to hear someone he cared so much about in such pain and not being able to do much about it to help. There was one thing though that the doctor said that had Greg's full attention.

"You're doing great Mycroft, keep pushing. She's starting to crown. I can see her head now. Give us another big push..."

Greg's eyes snapped open and he craned his neck to look down the line of Mycroft's back. "Oh my God." Greg's breath hitched when sure enough he could see the top of Anna's head, slowly making her way out into the world. With all the mess involved her hair was wet so he couldn't tell what colour but he could definitely see curls plastered to her tiny little head.

"Myc! I can see her. Oh my God, I can see her. And she has your curls. Oh my God!" He was watching his daughter being born. He had never witnessed anything more surreal in his life.

Mycroft wanted to shout that they didn’t need to announce what he could obviously feel, but all he could do was yell as she crowned, his muscles burning to the extreme as they stretched the widest they ever had. Oh, God it felt like he was going to die.

The Omega pushed hard when the doctor said to, completely unaware of whether he was making any noise or not as his daughter’s head finally squeezed out, leaving his muscles on fire. And he wasn’t even done yet.

Still, when he heard Greg’s words, he craned his neck to see to little avail, before looking down over his distorted stomach to see the slimily, pale skin of her face and her wet, matted curls between his legs. In any other situation, he would be disgusted, but in that moment, he had never seen anything more beautiful.

His awe didn’t last long though as the pain reclaimed him. The doctor was telling him to push again, that he just had to get past the shoulders and she would just slide out. So, bracing himself against Greg again, Mycroft pushed with all his might, one final cry leaving his lips as her little shoulders squeezed through the ring of muscles and the rest of her followed all of a sudden into a waiting towel held by the doctor.

“There she is. A beautiful little girl.” He could hear the smile in the doctor’s voice, but all Mycroft could do was tremble and pant for a long moment as the doctor did something where couldn’t see. And then, suddenly, the room was filled with his daughter’s shrill cry and Mycroft, he couldn’t stop tears from streaming down his cheeks. He and Greg were parents.

Greg had never been the type of man who was afraid to cry and he certainly didn't feel ashamed when he felt tears at the corner of his eyes. "She's beautiful Myc. God she is so beautiful. Our little Anna." His throat constricted on him as he spoke, but he didn't care about that either.

He didn't even tense up when a pair of nurses came in to clean her up while the doctor clipped the cord. Knowing his baby girl was in good hands, he buried his face in the crook of Mycroft's neck and let a silent sob of relief shake through him. Anna wailed on off to the side as she was cleaned and measured, letting the nurses know just how she felt about that. The next sob was more of a choked laugh.

"I don't think she likes that," he chuckled softly, pulling back a bit. He gently pushed Mycroft's hair back from his damp forehead. He looked so exhausted, red faced and covered in sweat and grime. Greg never wanted to kiss him more than he did in that moment. Mycroft had been so brave. He had gone through hell to bring their little girl in the world and Greg wanted so much to tell him...

"You did great, Mycroft. We're almost done. Give me another big push, as hard as you can and then we can get you cleaned up so you can rest," the doctor said, interrupting any admissions that Greg could end up regretting.

Mycroft looked up at Greg’s face, smiling a little at his words before looking behind them to try to see her, letting out a pained laugh as he saw her squirming as the nurses cleaned her. His face fell when he felt another small contraction though, the doctor’s words following after. He’d read about this part.

Gritting his teeth, he pushed once more, grunting as a something slippery slid out of him into whatever the doctor caught it with. He found he didn’t really care about that bit. They could grind his placenta up for dog food for all he cared. Right now, he just wanted to lie down and hold his daughter. They could clean him up in a moment.

“I want to hold her.” He demanded to whoever was listening, painstakingly turning over and flopping his back against Greg’s chest, ignoring the aches for the time being and pulling the sheets over himself as though half the people in the room hadn’t just seen him give birth. He was looking at the nurses defiantly, waiting for them to bring the little girl over to him. The doctor looked a little put out, but didn’t say anything. As long as Mycroft got cleaned up after he’d held his daughter, it would be fine.

So when the baby was finally brought over to them, Mycroft’s heart melted. With her hair dry, it was easy to see that she had inherited his auburn curls. She was still crying, but was quieting down, the comfort of being swaddled doing its job. Mycroft looked down at her when she was settled into his arms, a smile slowly spreading across his face. This was his daughter, the little being he had carried for nine months. “Look at you… Anneliese Gwenevere Holmes-Lestrade. Welcome to the family.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "..Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—  
> I took the one less traveled by,  
> And that has made all the difference."
> 
> -"The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost

Greg was still on cloud nine when they finally got to take Anna home the day after with a full bill of health for her and Mycroft. Not even Mycroft's complaining could bring down his good mood. Apparently Greg had spelled her middle name wrong on the birth certificate. Mycroft complained the whole car ride home that it was supposed to be Gwenevere not Gwennivere. Personally, Greg liked the way he spelled it.

"So there's an extra n and an i. Her name is already long and stuffy anyways. Two extra letters isn't going to make her hate us more when she had to learn to spell it. I mean come on, Anneliese is enough for her to throw a tantrum and at least I had spelled that right. Give me some credit. I was stressed!"

The car came to a soft, rolling stop and Greg immediately looked back to check on their daughter. He broke in a wide grin to see that she was still sleeping. She had been awake when they left the hospital but apparently the car ride had put her right to sleep. God she was precious.

Mycroft had his arms crossed in the passenger seat, still miffed by Greg’s slip up. “Honestly Gregory, I would have thought a man of your intelligence would at least have the ability to spell his own daughter’s name right. I thought everyone knew that it was spelled G-w-e-n-e-v-e-r-e. But…I suppose I can live with how it is now.”

To be completely honest, he couldn’t stay mad for long. In a way, it made her even more of their daughter, her name now having Greg’s personal touch. It was fitting and it made her even closer to them, if that was possible.

So when the Audi came to a stop in front of the townhouse and the Alpha looked back at her, Mycroft couldn’t help but follow suit, his gaze soft when he saw her asleep in her car seat, eyes trailing over her tiny features with reverence.

It was still a lot to take in that he was a father, or rather that they both were, but already, he loved her with every fibre of his being. It was a raw and powerful love that he’d never experienced before and supposed it was something he would only experience with his child; the tiny being he’d carried through thick and thin for nine long months.

Suddenly, he felt uncomfortable; not having her in his arms, but thankfully that could be remedied quickly. Shifting, he moved to unbuckle his seatbelt and open the car door. He was still rather unbalanced from having his centre of gravity change so quickly and his legs mostly felt like walking on jelly, but he would manage. Carefully, he got out of the car, bracing himself on the door as he went to get his daughter from the back seat.

Greg closed the car door then rested his arms on the roof to simply watch Mycroft extract their baby girl straight from the car seat. The relief on Mycroft’s face when she was in his arms made Greg chuckle. “I wonder what’ll happen if I try and take her. I fancy I might get myself bitten,” he teased fondly before ducking into the back seat to grab their bags and the little gifts that people gave them at the hospital to congratulate them on their little angel.

He was even nice enough to get the door unlocked and open so Mycroft didn’t have to shift Anna. He had been warned that Omegas got a little touchy when it came to being separated from the wee one. Greg might be the only exception and he was honestly fine with that. He had pointedly told his mum to give them a few days for that reason. Also, he and Mycroft had a lot to talk about and he didn’t fancy an audience for that.

“Here we are baby girl,” he said to the still sleeping bundle in Mycroft’s arms. “Home sweet home.”

Mycroft got up the single step and through the threshold with an ease he hadn’t had in months, despite still being rather wobbly. He was staying close to Greg for exactly that reason because the last thing he wanted to do was fall when he had his beautiful daughter in his arms. It was also nice to bring them out of the heat, even if they’d only been there for a minute or two.

“Home indeed.” He murmured in reply, his smile soft as he gently brushed his fingers over one of her fine, auburn curls. “I’m going to go sit with her in the den if you don’t mind. As usual, you’re free to join me. I just need to sit down.”

The Omega let out a long breath as he walked into the den, the comforting scents of home pressing against him, and slowly sat himself down on the sofa, wincing a little. He was incredibly sore and likely would be for days and that wasn’t the only thing. He was still rather large and still looked to be pregnant, though he wasn’t sure what else he expected, though he had been assured that he would shrink down some in time. There was still a good bit of weight attached though, but he tried not to think about it.

Anneliese stirred, interrupting his thoughts and quickly drawing his attention to her as he watched the little girl shift in his arms. It was only a movement in sleep, but still he kept his eyes on her. She was beautiful and what’s more she was his. Whenever he held his daughter, nothing felt more right.

"I'll join you in a minute," Greg replied, heading straight for the bedroom once they were all inside. He deposited the nappy bag and the small bag of Myc's stuff by the door of the bedroom but didn't leave straight away. Instead he walked to the little yellow bassinet and stroked his fingers over the edge. It rocked slightly under his touch, being the kind that rocked back and forth to soothe. There was even a small wind up mobile with soft teddies and ducks.

He hoped Mycroft knew that whether he liked it or not, Greg would be sharing the bed with him at least for the first week. He understood that Mycroft might be feeling all confused again and want to go back to blaming the hormones, but Anna was theirs and if Greg wanted to get woken up at two in the morning for a feeding then he felt that was his right. With a nod, he left the room to join his family.

"Hey you hungry? Figure you might want to try eating now since we are finally out of that awful hospital, unless you don't think you can spare a hand just yet." Greg contemplated turning on the telly but decided against it. The media had caught onto the news about the killer and it was enough that the Met wanted him in for a press conference. Greg cheerfully claimed that he was on paternity leave and wasn't going to bother until he had to.

“I suppose I could use a little something to eat. But the doctors said to keep it soft and bland for the first week or so. As long as that won’t be a problem with what we have, then I think I can manage holding her with one arm sitting like this. I am a bit hungry.” He replied, shifting the little girl to one arm carefully so he could scratch the side of his nose.

It was nice to just relax. The hospital really had been awful with all the question asking and the reporters trying to get in to get his and Greg’s side of the story since they were at ground zero _and_ the fact that Greg had been a cop on the case. Fortunately, if you could call it that, the same hospital regulations that had taken Greg away from him while he was in labour also kept them out for the most part.

They had later discovered that Cooper had been able to get in due to his position as a pharmacist and the connections he had with the private hospital, his firm being the one to provide the Wellington among others with the drugs and chemicals needed. The media was all over it. Mycroft had mistakenly asked for a paper at one point only to find his and Greg’s name and the story plastered all over it. He had discarded it rather quickly.

It seemed that when all else failed, Mycroft always had some sort of pasta on hand. Greg made a quick, meatless spaghetti, nothing fancy, but he had found fresh garlic to crush into it and the smell alone had been enough to make his mouth water. It was easy to digest, better than anything the hospital could shove down their throats, though probably a bit on the messy side.

"Uh, we really didn't have many other options than spaghetti. Sure you don't want me to put her in the bassinet so you can eat?" Greg asked as he entered the den with two plates. Mycroft didn't look like he had moved a muscle the whole time Greg had cooked.

Mycroft looked uncomfortable the moment Greg suggested he let go of her, but then, the man did have a point. He actually was starting to feel rather hungry and spaghetti was rather hard to eat with one hand, but still. The Omega looked down at Anna, biting his lip before glancing back up at Greg.

“Fine, just let me do it. I’ll be right back.” Mycroft stood carefully and slowly made his way into his bedroom where the little bassinet had been put together, looking down at it. He’d checked it over several times in the last week and knew it was completely safe, but he was still hesitant about leaving his daughter alone.

Eventually though, he lay her down to rest, his heart swelling at how perfect she looked nestled in the soft interior, fast asleep. She would be fine, he told himself as he stood, pausing a moment and considering whether or not he should turn on the mobile. He decided not to, she was already asleep after all, before slowly and quietly heading back out to sit and eat with Greg in the den, glancing back at the door a few times before settling down on the sofa once more.

“She… will be all right on her own in there, won’t she?”

“She’ll be fine,” Greg said softly as he handed Mycroft his plate then rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. He figured that if Mycroft no longer wanted Greg touching him then he would say something. Until then, the Alpha was going to carry on as usual.

“We’ll hear her if she wakes, you know we will. Right now enjoy the few minutes of peace you have. While I may be a first time dad, I grew up around kids. Trust me, this peace won’t last long.”

Just in case he went and jinxed himself he quickly forked a good helping of food into his mouth before he could be interrupted. He hadn’t left the hospital at all without Mycroft and refused to eat the crap they served outside of a necessary bite or two. And after the hell the labour had been, he frankly was starving and needed a few minutes of just him and Mycroft and plates of spaghetti until Anna decided to be the centre on their attention.

“I suppose…” Mycroft glanced back at the bedroom door once more before addressing the plate in his hands, idly twisting his fork in the pasta and taking a bite. He’d eaten a little bit at the hospital, but not much, so it was nice to finally get something worth eating in his stomach. It still went down a little funny, but it tasted good and it was just nice to relax and have a meal. After eating a few more bites, he set the plate down in his lap, glancing at Greg.

“Is it odd that I still can’t quite believe that we’re parents? I carried her for nine months, you’d think it would have sunk in by now, especially since I gave birth to her and held her. It just seems like a dream. A good dream, but a dream nonetheless. Though I suppose if it was a dream I wouldn’t be so sore.” Mycroft chuckled lightly with a wince as he shifted again, picking up his plate again. “Though, I’m sure it will be a little more real when she’s waking us up at the wee hours of the morning.”

Greg offered a half smile before wiping the corner of his mouth with his sleeve and not really caring. "I dunno, seems pretty real to me, but that's just me." He shrugged and pushed his food around on the plate. He had eaten half already so he didn't really mourn the loss of his appetite.

"I mean, all things considering, my dreams are a little less stressful." He stopped and actually thought about that... Murder, nightmarish scenes happening right before his eyes, facing the very real possibility of losing Mycroft... "Hell what am I saying? You're right, pretty much a normal dream. So I know things right now's real because things are good. You and Anna are home, safe, no impending threat of doom, wolfing down hastily thrown together pasta, definitely my sort of reality."

He probably should contemplate more on why it was so easy for him to accept that they were parents. It wasn't exactly ideal, even after what Mycroft said in hospital Greg still didn't know where he stood and that left open too many variables. But being a dad, having Anneliese with Mycroft, it just felt right and he wasn't about to go questioning that.

Mycroft smiled sympathetically at Greg, well aware what he was talking about, even though he didn’t say it outright. More likely than not, they would both have nightmares about the killer for years to come, the event imprinted on their lives right next to the birth of their child. At the moment, they were just able to bypass thinking about it because they had something so much more important to think about. Mycroft found himself glancing back at the door again in spite of himself before taking another bite.

“It is a rather nice reality, isn’t it? I suppose with all that’s happened, it just seems a little too good to be true…” Mycroft glanced at the man, feeling a sort of tension between them. Things were all calm and settled now. Anna was born and she was home, leaving the two of them to have one thing in mind. The Omega bit his lip and put his plate to the side, looking down at his still large stomach for a moment.

“Gregory…. I know we need to talk about this. About where we stand and about what I said. I’m just not all that sure where to start. The last few days have been the most emotionally confusing things I have ever gone through and I’m not even sure what I’m feeling. Perhaps if we talked it would help straighten some things out though and get some things off our chests…”

Greg fiddled with his fork, keeping his plate in his lap to give his hands something to do. It stung a little that Mycroft was falling back on his old excuse when it came to emotions, but he knew too that Mycroft had been under a lot of stress when he had said that they were all but mates while in labour. And honestly, what had he been expecting, that Mycroft would just disregard five months of confusion where Greg was concerned and jump him or something?

“Okay. Fair enough. You’ve been racked with hormones that have been playing with your emotions lately. Do you still feel like that’s the case now? I read it will take a bit before you feel like you’ve got your body back even after labour. I don’t want you trying to push yourself into anythin’ if you think this might still be the case, you know. Don’t want you having any doubt, Myc,” Greg said in a calm manner despite the way he tapped his fork on the plate.

He was nervous. ‘Course he was. While Mycroft was still struggling with how he felt, Greg really only had one thing to get off his chest but he wasn’t sure if that night was going to be the best time for what he had to say. He doubt Mycroft was ready for it. He didn’t know when fancying the Omega turned to falling in love with him, but Greg knew how he felt and knew it was what he felt for Mycroft.

Mycroft worried his lip with his teeth before sighing, picking a bit of fuzz off his shirt. “I don’t want to have any doubt either, Gregory. I feel strongly for you. Stronger than I’ve ever felt for anyone and I want it to be something more than the hormones. I really do, understand. And I’m worried that when it’s all said and done that what I’m feeling will only be my body wanting you as my mate because I was pregnant with your child…”

The Omega trailed off, looking up and meeting Greg’s eyes, offering him a small but almost sad smile. “I want you here until I’m sure though. As far as I’m concerned, I’m still recovering from the birth and while I can read a thousand books on how to care for a child, I’m going to need help in these coming weeks. She’s ours and I want you here. What’s more, I like having you here.” The smile fell with Mycroft’s posture.

“I want to be sure. The mere thought of not feeling this way by the time I get myself back to being me hurts, but I can’t ignore that it might be a possibility and I’m sorry. I know this has to put a strain on you. Do you think you could put up with me for a little while until I’m sorted out?” He knew his indecision must be hard on Greg, but this was one thing he didn’t want to have wrong.

One thing could be said, Mycroft Holmes didn’t just jump into things like normal people did, but Greg could respect that. He nodded, looking down at his plate even though he had long lost his appetite. He had expected as much, of course, but that didn’t mean he was a tad disappointed all the same.

“I respect that,” he said before looking up again. He attempted a friendly smile but his heart wasn’t entirely into cheery but it was soft. Fond even. “And of course I’ll be here, don’t tell me hormones affected your brain,” he teased, giving Mycroft’s shoulder a nudge. He pushed himself to his feet, collecting their plates. “I don’t think I’d last even five minutes without my baby girl and like you said, she’s ours. I’d bunk myself in the nursery if I have to, but the couch is just fine with me.”

Luckily his back was turned by then so Mycroft didn’t see the way his expression twisted. The couch wasn’t fine, he’d rather be as close to their daughter as Mycroft, but he wasn’t going to force his presence on Mycroft either. It was enough that Mycroft was giving him as much as he was. Greg really didn’t fancy flat searching yet or the very idea of missing a moment of his daughter even if all she did for a while was sleep and eat.

Mycroft watched his back as he went to the kitchen with a frown. He didn’t want things to be tense between them again just because he wasn’t pregnant anymore, but he also didn’t want to rush into anything. If anything, he wanted things as they were before they’d gone off to the hospital.

Just because he wasn’t sure didn’t mean he wanted things to change just yet. Maybe if they interacted now, without him being the carrier of their child anymore, it would ease things along. The Omega shifted before speaking.

“I’m not asking you to go back to the couch, Greg. I don’t want what we had to stop. You can still share my bed and you’re allowed to touch me if that’s still what you want.” The man paused, smirking a little, even though Greg was looking away. “Besides, how am I supposed to elbow you in the ribs and tell you to feed Anna at three in the morning if you’re sleeping on the sofa?”

Greg almost dropped the plates but caught himself before he had to owe Mycroft expensive dinner ware or made a fool of himself. Did Mycroft even know how badly mixed those signals were? He needed time to sort out his emotions but in the meantime would allow Greg to go on happily playing happy family or something? It bloody made his head spin. And just exactly what did he mean by ‘touching?’ Greg wasn’t sure he wanted to go there.

“Oh yeah, that’s incentive to share a bed with ya,” he snarked instead of saying what was really on his mind, busying himself with rinsing off the plates. He felt like banging his head on the wall, but that would probably wake Anna.

“But alright. I think we can work something out. Don’t think my back can handle switching back to the couch, to be honest. Let’s face it, you’re a hedonist but it means you have the most damn comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in. A man tends to get spoiled when it comes to beds like that.” He turned his head to smirk at Mycroft over his shoulder, feeling the playfulness actually reach his eyes despite the rest of him still feeling thoroughly confused by the man.

“From the sound of it, I’ve ruined you for any bed you may have to sleep in. My apologies.” Mycroft replied with a spirited lilt to his voice. To be honest, he was just glad that Greg would still be sharing with him. He knew it would be different, but he still wanted the man there, close to him. Sighing, the man grimaced a little as the soreness smarted in his backside.

He wished his body could just go back to the way it was straight away, it would make things so much easier for all of them. Instead he was stuck with still raging hormones and a bulging abdomen and confusion. The man pressed his hands to his stomach with distaste. He had little doubt that there would be some weight from his pregnancy that he would never lose and the stretch marks would likely take a very long time to fade if they ever did completely.

That in mind, he made a mental list to look up what he should be eating now and what else he should be doing to get his body back as best he could. The thought that he should get back on his contraceptive as soon as it was safe to do so quickly followed. He didn’t know what kind of circumstances would arise in the coming months but he knew for a fact that he did _not_ want another child on the way so soon if he ever did. At the moment, Anneliese was enough.

And as if on cue, there was a few shuddering sobs before a high and needy wail arose from his bedroom. Mycroft actually flinched because he wasn’t expecting it. He got up quickly, but banged his shin on the coffee table and had to sit back down with a pained scowl. They were obviously going to have to move some things around so they could get to Anna quickly, but for now he was willing to let Greg tend to her this time.

“I got her,” Greg said, throwing his hands out at Mycroft in a gesture that told him to stay sitting as he rushed from the kitchen to the room. He quickly dried his hands on his shirt as he went, not wanting to touch her with sudsy hands, then pushed open the door to be met with the full blast of her cries. She hadn’t really made much of fuss at the hospital and he’d been pretty preoccupied the first time they heard her scream so it was a bit of a shock to get the full brunt of it. God did his daughter have a pair of lungs.

“Hey now, what’s all this?” he soothed as he picked her up but she went straight on crying. He could tell just from holding her though that she needed a change, probably a bottle too. So he grabbed the nappy bag off the floor and carried her out to the sitting room to involve Mycroft. The changing table was in the nursery but there was a pad in the bag if Mycroft didn’t mind him changing her out there on the couch.

“You want dibs on making the bottle or changing the diaper?” he asked dryly while his eyes were on Anna. Even with her screaming in his ear, he melted the moment he had her in his arms. Honestly, he would take diaper duty just for the excuse of being near her, though he was pretty sure Mycroft would use that excuse as well. That and he proved to be the better diaper changer in the hospital, much to Greg’s chagrin.

“I can change her. I don’t mind.” The man held his hands out to receive his daughter and the nappy bag, anxious to have her back in his arms. Originally, he had thought that changing where would be something he would be downright disgusted by, but he found that while it wasn’t pleasant, he didn’t mind doing it. She was his daughter. “I’ll hand her over to you to feed once she’s clean.”

He had to remember that Greg wanted to take part too and that he couldn’t just have her all to himself. Besides, if he tried to do everything in his state, he would tire himself out quickly. It was still hard though. He just wanted to be as close as possible to her. He supposed is was separation anxiety or something similar considering she’d been inside him for so long, but it still didn’t change anything about wanting to be near his daughter.

Greg conceded mainly because Mycroft looked like he seriously might have a panic attack or something if he went any longer without holding the baby. While Greg certainly wanted to get as much time with her as possible, his need was obviously not as bad as the poor Omega's. So he let Myc take her, feeling a flicker of envy when she quieted down in Mycroft's arms, but made the bottle without a grudge.

When he returned Mycroft had her in a fresh diaper and wrapped up warm and snug in a swaddle and his arms. When Mycroft started to look like he was about to give her up, Greg shook his head. "She looks comfortable. No sense in moving her unless you want to," he said, sitting beside Mycroft and offering the bottle. He was perfectly content just sitting there and watching Mycroft feed her, to be honest.

Mycroft shook his head. “No, I want you to feed her. You’ve barely held her since she was born, which is entirely my fault. You deserve some time with her.” The Omega was hesitant for a moment before carefully shifting her and nestling her in Greg’s arms.

She was safe with Greg, he reminded himself as he made sure the man had her before letting go completely and sitting back, though he still looked a little on edge. He wanted Greg to have his time with her though. And to see her in Greg’s arms, it looked right. Anna didn’t squirm, though she was looking up at the Alpha with wide blue eyes. They were told that her eye colour could change over time, but for the moment, they were a bright blue.

Greg gave Mycroft a wide, grateful smile for getting to feed her even though he could see how uncomfortable it made the man. "And I haven't been complaining, have I?" He asked softly as he guided the bottle to Anna's mouth.

Like they were taught in hospital, he let the nipple rub her cheek a little and she immediately turned her head and latched on. Her enthusiasm caught him by surprise, making his eyes widen before he laughed. Yep, wrapped around her finger already, he was.

"But thank you." Settling her more in his lap so he can hold her and the bottle with one hand, without managing to disturb her eating, thank God, Greg placed his hand on Mycroft's thigh and gave him a light squeeze. "Just know that no matter what Mycroft, I'll be here for the both of you, okay? Even if things turn out to me having to move next door or something, I'll be as close by as I can be. Just know that, okay?"  

Even if Mycroft did decide that he couldn't be in a romantic relationship with him, Greg silently vowed that he wouldn't run. He knew it was his tendency when things didn't go his way, but not this time. Though that didn't mean in the meantime he didn't plan on doing everything in his power to prove to Mycroft that they were right for each other, and not just for Anna's sake.

“Thank you.” Mycroft murmured as he watched Greg hold and feed their little girl, a soft warmth growing in his chest. He was grateful that Greg was giving him a chance to at least. The Omega knew his indecision was hard on the man, but he truly hoped that once things had settled and he was himself again, that he would be able to give Greg what he craved. He had hope. For, as he watched the Alpha and his daughter, he knew that if he wasn’t able to love Greg as a partner and mate, he would always be able to love the man as the father of his child.

"I can't wait until she's able to do more than eat and sleep, you know? Not that she isn't adorable as is or anything." Greg gently ran a finger over her soft head as Anna lay sleeping in her bassinet. They had just put her down then got ready for bed themselves. It hadn't been a hard day, really, but they knew that it was wise to sleep when she did. They'd be hella lucky if she slept for more than four hours a night.

He left her be to walk to the other side of the bed and climb in behind Mycroft. It just made more sense to let Mycroft have the side closer to Anna and Greg didn't mind. He was still quick on his feet and it wasn't like she was that far.

“She’ll get there eventually. Though be careful what you wish for. If she’s anything like Sherlock or even me from what I’ve heard, she’ll be getting into anything and everything the moment she can get around on her own.” Mycroft replied quietly, shifting a little as Greg got into bed with him. “I’m sure we’ll manage though…”

At first Greg tried to just lie on his back then thought about his turning onto his side with his back to Mycroft but that was just stupid. He was going to get comfortable and he wanted to test just how much Mycroft meant that he wanted things to go back to the way things were before. Just sharing a bed again felt awkward so it really wasn't like he could make things all that worse.

"Oi, come 'ere," he muttered, turning to his side and wrapping an arm around Mycroft to pull him in close like they usually did. If Mycroft didn't like it he would say something but Greg got comfortable really quick. It just felt right, being that close, that warm. It boggled the mind that Mycroft didn't see it like Greg did.

Mycroft didn’t protest when Greg pulled him closer. If anything, he was able to relax with the Alpha so close, his scent warm and wonderful. The Omega settled against him and closed his eyes, just feeling Greg breathe.

He wanted this to be real very badly, but he just needed time to make sure. Because right now, things felt like they should be and he only hoped Greg knew just how much he wanted this for the rest of his life. He just didn’t know if it would be what he wanted when things were back to normal. And he needed to make sure.

\--

Mycroft put his pen down, looking blankly down at the paperwork before him. The man frowned, finding himself completely unable to do it now that something occurred to him. He hadn’t realised it before, but now that he did, it was taking him a moment to process it.

A month had passed since Anneliese was born and he and Greg had slowly gotten into the routine of being parents. It wasn’t easy, but together they managed, taking turns feeding and changing her, among other things.

Her first bath had been the sink since it hadn’t occurred to them that they would need a something smaller than the bathtub to wash her in and Mycroft was the one who somehow had ended up the wettest, handing her off to Greg to dry off while he went to towel off himself.

Anna tended to usually want something, be it a change or a bottle around two or three in the morning they had come to find and that the little girl had a pair of lungs on her when her parents didn’t hop to it and tend to her. Greg and Mycroft were at her beck and call.

Things had been changing physically for Mycroft as well. Slowly but surely, his girth had shrunk to a more manageable size, though he was nowhere close to being what he was before the pregnancy and he was beginning to doubt he ever would be. He still had a good bit of weight that clung to his stomach, hips and thighs to name a few places and the stretch marks refused to fade completely, leaving light pink marks on his stomach. Much to his chagrin, he couldn’t fit into any of his old clothes and had been forced to wear some of the clothing he had originally worn when he’d first started showing.

He and Greg were warm towards each other, though it wasn’t completely what he had hoped. They still touched and cuddled and teased each other often, but it lacked that extra warmth that Mycroft knew he shouldn’t expect of Greg when he himself had been the indecisive one. They’d slipped into a rhythm though and it was comfortable.

However, Mycroft had thought he would be back at work within the month, and in some ways he was, making calls and working over his computer from home when Anna was resting and Mycroft wasn’t dead asleep himself. He was important and needed and he had been away from his duty far too long during the pregnancy. Anthea was bringing him paperwork to do while he stayed at home. He’d even had her get another, simpler bassinet while Greg was out for his study so he could keep Anna close while he worked.

And that’s where he was now, dressed in a simple white button down with the sleeves rolled up and a waistcoat that slimmed his rounder form, sitting at his mahogany desk in his study, papers spread out in front of him, Anna napping close by. It was here that Mycroft made his realisation.

Now that things had settled and he had gotten into a routine, he realised he was feeling like he used to, the unfortunate extra weight aside. He felt normal. Mycroft sat back, not quite sure what to make of it.

He was still in love with Gregory Lestrade.

Greg entered the townhouse quietly, not wanting to wake Anna if she was asleep, though he couldn't help a small sigh of relief for being home. He loved his job, don't get him wrong. He was good at what he did but he had been back two weeks and still didn't get that thrill of being a DI whenever he got to work. Granted he had fought tooth and nail for cut hours so he could spend more time at home until he and Mycroft could find a nanny they trusted for when they were both gone and he did spend most of his time doing paperwork and managing the team. Still, he didn't think he would ever feel that thrill again for his job, not when he had better things waiting at home.

Not that things were perfect, no. Anna was a little more demanding than he had hoped, especially with the whole middle of the night screaming sessions. Not that he had much of a sleep schedule before her always being on call, but then again waking up with her didn't include having a cadet to order around and bring him coffee. On the flip side though, work didn't come with a rocker that he tended to fall asleep in while she guzzled down a bottle.

And then there was Mycroft... Wonderful, maddening Mycroft. Still the master of mixed signals and Greg was still hopelessly in love with the guy while still having no clue how he felt in return. It was a constant test on his heart, not to mention his libido. Sexually frustrating could also be added to his list of attributes given to Mycroft Holmes. And speaking of the man...

Greg popped his head into the study, seeing quite possibly the perfect scene to describe the perfection of his life. Mycroft looked as good as ever behind his desk, dressed to the nines even for working at home though Greg got the added bonus of seeing him with his sleeves rolled up and a simple waistcoat. He didn't know why that made Mycroft look so damn good, but it did. It really did. And right beside him was Anna fast asleep in her little cot. All the tension of the day just drained away and Greg knew he was smiling like a sap.

"Hey. Did I miss anything while I was gone?" He asked softly while hanging onto the door jam, still in his black blazer and nice shoes from the press meeting. Guess he'd been too eager to see his little family to worry about other things.

Mycroft snapped out of it when he heard Greg’s voice, turning to look at the man. He hadn’t even heard him come in. It then took a moment to actually register what Greg had said. “Oh, no, nothing in particular. It’s actually been rather quiet today. I was just doing some paperwork.”

Mycroft stood, smiling at him before walking over to Anna’s cot to check up on her. Still sleeping peacefully and he was going to let her stay that way for the time being. The Omega glanced back at Greg, trying to think of something to say, but for once, not able to find the words. He stood there, looking down at their daughter for a long moment before turning to face the Alpha.

“Gregory, do you think we could talk?” He asked carefully. He didn’t understand why he suddenly felt so nervous. This is what he wanted. He’d given it time and now he knew what he felt. Now he just had to get that across.

Greg's brows twitched up, unsure if the conversation was going to lead to anything good. In his experience, someone asking him that particular question never panned out the way he would like so naturally he was a little nervous. "Uh yeah. Sure." He nodded out the door to take it out in the hallway then pushed off the door jamb.

He leaned against the wall as he waited for Mycroft, trying for nonchalance. Really he was just trying not to overthink and turn himself into a nervous wreck. For all he knew Mycroft just wanted to talk about nanny's or something. He still couldn't help licking his lips nervously when Mycroft joined him out in the hall.

"So what's up? Everything alright?"

Mycroft nodded and followed, glancing back at Anna before closing the door behind. He needed to get his thoughts together. The Omega crossed his arms, trying to fit his words how he wanted them. Usually he didn’t have to work this hard to say something. The man sighed and closed his eyes, clearing his mind.

“Everything’s fine. I just… Gregory, when Anna was born, I asked for some time to get myself back and let the hormones bleed off.” He knew that probably wasn’t the best way to start, but it was all he had. “And today, I realised I feel myself again other than being a good bit more heavy set.” He glanced up at the man, hoping to read Greg’s reaction. He just needed to find the right words for this. “Greg…I.. I’m sorry; this is harder than I thought it would be…”

Greg’s throat threatened to close up as dread and pain tightened in his stomach, threatening to make him feel ill. His head dropped as he raised his hand, not wanting to hear any more. He knew it, he bloody knew it. All that history between them and Mycroft was going to go blame it on the hormones. He really should have known better.

“Hey, I get it. It’s fine,” he forced out. He didn’t even try to sound calm ‘cause Mycroft would have known otherwise. “Hormones are finally back to normal and you figured out that all this,” he flapped his hand between them, “was just instincts or something like that. I get it. You don’t need to kill yourself and further explain.” Greg tried to meet Mycroft’s eyes but couldn’t. He was irrationally angry and really wanted to get out of the confining hallway but he had promised not to run, not matter what. Even if Mycroft bloody ripped out his heart.

“Gregory, you are far too good at taking things the wrong way. We’re really going to need to work on communicating in the future.” Mycroft stated outright, raising an eyebrow. He could tell Greg had taken his hesitance completely the wrong way and, God, while he loved him; he really needed to let him finish his sentence. But then, Mycroft probably was going to keep struggling so…

Sighing, the Omega closed the gap between them; tilted Greg’s chin up and kissed him with a robust fullness. It was firm and demanding and left little question. This was not the time to be nervous. “Gregory Lestrade. I love you. I have loved you for months but I had to be sure. Emotions are difficult for me, you know that. So you can calm down.”

Greg mentally flailed when Mycroft kissed him, not much able to do anything but widen his eyes at first before they snapped shut as the hard, emotionally charged kiss bowled him over. He might have made a sound of protest when Mycroft pulled away, (it was not a whimper, damn it) but he was too shocked by Mycroft's words to remember. Greg's mouth dropped.

"Wait. You... What?" No way in hell did he hear that right. He stared at Mycroft, dumbfounded, and heavily distracted by the way his mouth tingled. He licked his lips and tried to regain his wits but Mycroft had done a great job in making him utterly senseless. "You wanna repeat that because I don't think I heard you right."

“Greg, you heard me perfectly. I love you. Is that really that hard to believe?” He asked, moving back a little to give the man some space to think. “You know that I wanted to make sure. And I have. I feel like myself, but… I still feel the same for you. I hope that’s clear enough for you.” He explained, letting out a soft breath with a smile.

He understood that Greg was probably a little mixed up, especially since a few moments ago, the Alpha had been fairly sure that Mycroft was rejecting him. Still, the elder Holmes hoped that Greg believed him. He had been so doubtful; the DI likely had started to doubt him as well. But Mycroft truly felt this way and he wanted to make sure Greg understood that.

Greg swallowed roughly as his mind was washed with a new clarity. It was still a little hard to believe but he wasn't about to doubt a good thing. Not when he'd been wanting this so badly for a long time. "It's a little hard to believe, yeah," he said softly. The space between them was too much so he took a step forward and cupped Mycroft's cheek. "I've been wanting so badly to hear those words but I hand begun to think I never would."

He bridged the gap between them further and gently tugged Mycroft's head down so that their foreheads were pressed together. Greg closed his eyes and breathed the man in while his thumb rubbed gently at the nape of Mycroft's neck. "And I love you too, you know. I was also afraid I'd never get to say it."

“I know. And I’m sorry I made you wait. I know that must have been hard for you.” Mycroft replied quietly, leaning into Greg’s touch as he let out a soft breath. The Omega’s hands found themselves on Greg’s waist at their convenience. Before it had been awkward with his distended stomach in the way, but now they rested there comfortably. Now that he thought about it, there was a rather amusing element to the three inches between them in height, with Mycroft being the taller.

“Do you think you can forgive me for being thick skulled?” Mycroft smirked lightly, just enjoying the proximity. It was a little silly, having a tender moment in the hallway, but he found he didn’t really mind. Though, now that that had been said had been said, it raised another question. Did they want to take this further and become mates? Mycroft did. But he could wait for a bit and just enjoy the moment.

Greg looked up at Mycroft with a playful twinkle in his eyes while his left hand found itself comfortable at Mycroft's hip where the man was still soft and easy to grab at. "I'd forgive you for a lot of things if you'd kiss me right now," he said gruffly.

He was probably pushing it, and the last thing he wanted to do was push Mycroft past his comfort zone, but there was no way he could just leave things there with confessions in a hallway and nothing more. It wasn't like he was asking to be mates or anything.

Though he wanted that. Dear God did he want that. He knew they were going to need to talk about that soon. He knew that Mycroft was back on contraceptives, hard to not notice when they shared the same bathroom and bedroom, but he didn't know if Mycroft was on heat suppressants. And if he wasn't, if he ever went into heat, there was no way Greg would be able to control himself. Not when Mycroft finally admitted to his feelings. Right then however, Greg would happily settle for a kiss.

“Fair enough.” Mycroft smirked before leaning in and claiming Greg’s lips again. This time is was soft, slow and thoughtful, the elder Holmes taking his time as he pulled Greg a little closer. As he did, he felt a knot of tension unwind in his chest.

He was actually in love with Greg. He’d never been in love with anyone like this before. The Omega hummed gently against Greg’s lips before ending the kiss. He didn’t back off though, his hands still on Greg’s waist.

“Gregory… this might sound a bit forward and if it is, just tell me, but…” Mycroft bit his lip as he worked the words into his mouth. They felt right to him. Greg felt right to him. Greg had felt right to him the moment he’d stepped more permanently into his life and now his mind agreed. Mycroft slowly looked up to meet Greg’s brown eyes and smiled softly. “I’d like to be your mate… if you’ll have me.”

Greg huffed a small, disbelieving laugh. What kind of question was that? Greg knew that Mycroft could figure out a man's life story with one look so he was pretty sure that Mycroft could be blindfolded and still tell how badly Greg wanted that. He was pretty sure every inch of him screamed how much he wanted to bond with Mycroft Holmes.

Shaking his head a little and grinning like an idiot, Greg cupped Mycroft's cheek. "You're barkers if you have any doubt that I'll have you," he said before rising up on his toes and sealing their lips, going straight from sweet to heated.

All those long months of pining and torturing himself slid away as he pulled Mycroft flush against him when the kiss turned deliciously wet. There was still the niggling fear that he was going to wake up the next day to find that Mycroft changed his mind, but right then he let himself get lost in the feel of Mycroft's warm, tall form in his hands and the slick tangle of their tongues.

It was a bit ridiculous for two grown men to be snogging in a hallway, but Greg didn't care. He was exactly right where he wanted to be, getting completely swept away by the man he was head over heels for and knowing that, finally, those feelings were returned. It was like a dream, one he was perfectly content in staying in, that was until their daughter's crying brought them back to reality.

Mycroft jerked up at the sound of Anna’s crying, pulling apart from Greg quickly, but then pausing, offering Greg a small smile and kissed him on the forehead before going to see what was bothering their child. The Omega crossed the room in long strides over to the tiny cot, carefully picking up and supporting the screaming infant. It didn’t feel like she had soiled her diaper, so more likely than not, it was time for dinner.

With a sigh, he rubbed her back to try to calm her until he could go and fetch a bottle, turning back towards the door and smiling at Greg. “She’s hungry.” He told Greg on his way out of the study, Anneliese safely in his arms. It was about time for his own dinner as well, having completely forgotten about lunch. “Have you eaten yet?”

He and Greg obviously still had a lot to talk about among other things and hopefully once they got Anna settled again, they could do just that. Mycroft was considering proposing that they try to trigger his heat, because to be honest, he’d waited long enough. That also meant that they would have to find someone to watch their precious little girl if they did succeed in doing so since they would likely have some difficulty taking care of her if they were in the midst of a rampant week of hormone and pheromone fuelled sex. Yes, they had some things to discuss, but first, it was just time to get the little one fed.

\---

"Remember to keep an eye on her diapers. She has a small rash," Greg said as he reluctantly handed Anna's things to his mother. His daughter was fast asleep in the carrier at their feet. "And if she gives you any trouble just put her in the car. Knocks her out every time."

"So she takes right after her father," his Mum quipped. Greg ignored her to bend down to push Anna's fringe from her eyes. He knew he needed to get back home to Mycroft, his first heat in a while having hit him that morning, but he felt bad for just leaving his daughter with his mum.

"She's really easy though. Just make sure she has a full belly and a clean diaper and she's good to go. Oh and we've been putting her on her play mat for about half an hour a day. Try more with her if you can. Gotta work up her strength..."

"Greg, I know how to take care of a baby. I raised you after all." Greg looked up at her with an embarrassed grimace.

"I know but..."

"She'll be fine. Now get to your poor young man who's probably starting to get rather uncomfortable," she said with a wink, which was definitely his cue to leave. Having his mum know exactly why she was watching the baby for a week was one thing but having her comment on it was too much. He quickly placed a kiss on Anna's forehead then rose up to quickly kiss his mum goodbye.

"You have Anthea's number if you need anything," he said as he darted out the door.

Everyone knew for the next week he and Mycroft was going to be occupied. God, a full week spending Mycroft's first heat in almost a year together. His palms were already sweating and he felt hot under the collar. It wasn't just the promised week of hormone fuelled sex that was making him rush to the car though, but the promise of bonding. He couldn't get home fast enough.

Greg needed to get home soon, or Mycroft was going to start climbing the walls. The man wet his lips and made his way into the kitchen to get some water. He needed to stay hydrated. He sat down with his cup and glanced at the clock for the umpteenth time before closing his eyes and trying to ignore the growing dampness of his undergarments despite the special plug he’d inserted that prevented him from making a mess of everything while he waited for Greg. It was obviously getting to be a bit much even for the plug.

Wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, he finished his water and filled the glass again to take back to their room. His clothes were starting to get damp with sweat, clinging to his skin and being all around uncomfortable. Setting the cup down, he stripped off his shirt and threw it to the side before stalking to the bathroom to remove the plug.

He’d read that the first heat after a pregnancy tended to hit an Omega harder and he was starting to believe it. Panting, he stripped out of the rest of his clothing and removed the plug, groaning at the slightest of stimulation. God, he needed something and he was half tempted to put the plug back in or better yet, a plug made for pleasure. He shook it off though. He could wait until Greg returned.

The Omega wobbled out to their bed, pushing the blankets to the side before climbing onto the mattress. He lay there in the nude for a moment, his complimentary erection that came with heats profanely prodding his soft stomach. After a moment, Mycroft reached down and took himself into hand to try to relieve some of the tension, stroking himself quickly. He and Greg had already had a few nights of rougher sex to trigger his heat in the first place so he had plenty of things to go on as he tugged at his short prick.

Eventually, he earned himself a small orgasm, which took some of the edge off. Sighing, he took a page out of his brother’s book and wrapped himself in the bed sheet, curling up and trying to get a small nap in since the next couple of days were going to be exhausting. It was hard to relax with the fiery arousal buzzing under his skin, his lubricating fluids soaking into the sheets. He should probably get a towel. Or just roll onto his stomach for the time being. He decided on the latter, just trying to breath. His lover and prospective mate would be here soon enough.

Greg barely managed to get home without breaking any laws, though he might have made a few illegal turns to turn the usually hour and a half trip to only being a full hour gone. Still, it was an hour too long spent not in bed, claiming his soon to be mate. Jesus. He was half hard by the time he reached the door just thinking about it.

After fumbling with his God damn keys, Greg finally managed to throw the door open, just to nearly fall to his knees. He groaned at the sudden assault of Mycroft’s heady pheromones, hitting him square on and making him fully hard to the point of aching. “Christ!” He felt his mind immediately turned to mush, giving away to instinct, as he scrambled inside. He quickly slammed the door shut and throwing the lock. With each heavy breath he saturated his senses with Mycroft’s scent, barely even noticing the growl that ripped from his chest. Mycroft was ripe and Greg felt like he was going to die if he didn’t get to the ready Omega right that fucking second.

“God, did you even think about waiting for me? I can smell you,” he growled while ripping at his clothes. He could smell the musk of Mycroft’s seed all the way from the foyer and couldn’t help but think of how the man might have pleasured himself while waiting for Greg. “You didn’t use any toys did you? I don’t want anything filling that sweet hole but me.”

His shoes, socks, and belt was dropped right there on the foyer, blazer thrown over the nearest piece of furniture. By the time he reached the hall he just ripped the pale blue shirt open, buttons pinging on the soft carpet. Once he got into the room his trousers were undone, shirt just barely hanging off his shoulders and hard, leaking cock poking through the front of his pants. He stopped halfway from pushing trousers and pants down though to drink in the sight of Mycroft on the bed, practically presenting himself. Greg probably looked like a crazed animal. He was pretty sure that he was drooling.

Mycroft had been alert the moment Greg’s scent hit his nose, but tangled in sheet, it took him a few frustrating moments to free himself and turn over to see his lover, his pupils completely dilated. His sight raked down Greg’s form, his body immediately reacting to having another Alpha in the room. More specifically, what was soon to be _his_ Alpha. Mycroft wet his lips, his skin warming even more.

As fast as he could, he threw the rest of the sheet off and slid to the end of the bed in all his naked glory, leaving a trail of his scent all over the sheets.

“It’s about time you got here. I feel like I’m on fire. You can hardly blame me for wanting a little release; my heat’s progressing faster than it usually does. I haven’t used anything in me though. I only want you there.” He told the Alpha, addressing the man’s question in a playful but breathless tone.

He parted his legs in a wide spread, the wetness of his lubrication visible on his thighs. He would get up, but they’d only be back on the bed in seconds so he was going to make Greg come to him. “Now could you get over here before I actually consider using a toy instead? I’ve been waiting almost three hours for you and that’s three hours too long.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Greg rumbled in a deep, throaty voice. He pushed down his clothes then shrugged out of the shirt before prowling towards the bed completely nude. Absentmindedly he stroked his cock as he moved, all of his focus on Mycroft and the slick sheen between his thighs. He didn’t know if he wanted to take his time, tease and torment Mycroft like he did the first time or just take him, fill him with his big cock and bite him before Mycroft could change his mind about bonding. He was really bloody tempted.

“Last chance to back out on bonding,” he said when he reached the bed and started crowding Mycroft back against the pillows. His scent was soaked into the sheets, making it hard to concentrate. “Tell me now Mycroft or I am not going to be able to stop myself from biting you.”

He had Mycroft braced up on his elbows below him while he loomed above, braced on his hands with his knees between Mycroft’s splayed thighs. He didn’t dare allow any actual contact, not yet. Mycroft’s pheromones were enough of a strain on his self-control and he knew he was going to lose it completely the moment they touched. He was trembling with the exertion of holding himself back but he was going to give Mycroft this one last chance to be absolutely sure.

“Gregory, I have never been more sure in my life.” Mycroft purred, reaching up and pulling Greg down by the back of the neck and kissing him passionately, his body arching up to press himself against Greg. He wasn’t going to back down now. He loved Greg and there was nothing more he wanted in that moment to be the man’s mate.

The Omega moved his lips over Greg’s, tasting them before moving his own to the Alpha’s neck, kissing and nipping down one side, over the major arteries. His hands slid down to Greg’s shoulders and back, holding on firmly, fingers splayed over the inky wings he loved. Mycroft pressed his hips up, his smaller cock rubbing against Greg’s large one, rutting in an attempt to get friction. What he really wanted was Greg inside him, but for right now, he just wanted to be sure that the Alpha knew that this was what he wanted and then some.

“I love you, Gregory Lestrade and I want you to claim me as your mate.” He murmured in Greg’s ear, holding still for a moment. Greg’s scent was strong and filled his head, making his heart race. This was what he wanted. It was amazing to think that ten months ago he would have scoffed the very idea of bonding, but now, he wanted nothing more. He wanted Greg, father of his child and the man he’d come to love as his mate and he wasn’t going to settle for anything less.

Greg was mindless with lust from Mycroft maddening ministrations that he barely heard the Omega's answer. All he wanted to do was rut and bend Mycroft in half and fill him up... He shook his head slightly to clear the fog in his brain, knowing that Mycroft's words were important but if he didn't stop rutting their cocks together Greg didn't have half a hope.

Some sense returned at the words he was never going to grow tired hearing. He drew back enough to meet Mycroft's eyes, not that he had a clear enough head to properly read the Omega, but he needed that connection before he was nothing but an Alpha in a rut. He could tell enough though that it wasn't just the heat talking, that Mycroft meant what he said and wouldn't regret it after his heat.

"You really mean it, don't you?" he asked thickly, aware of the heat that rolled off of Mycroft's fevered body in waves and the sweat that slid down his own back. He didn't give Mycroft much time to answer though before finally touching Mycroft by sliding a hand through sweat-damp hair and crashing their lips in a searing kiss.

His self-control shattered then and he lowered himself to completely wrap Mycroft in his arms, pushing him down into the mattress and trying to touch as much of the man as was possible. He groaned in the kiss when his cock slid through the slick between Mycroft’s thighs then against the fat, ruddy prick, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough until he was balls deep in Mycroft’s tight, welcoming body, knotting him while he sunk his teeth into the supple flesh of his neck.

Mycroft reacted positively, doing everything he could to just touch Greg, kissing the man back with equal fiery passion, making soft noises in the back of his throat. His legs loosely wrapped around the Alpha’s, just trying to draw him closer. It wasn’t enough for him either though. His heat demanded Greg filling and knotting him.

“I mean it completely..” Mycroft let out a heated breath, kissing Greg’s jawline. “Gregory, I need you. I need you to fill me, God, please.” He’d been in heat since that morning and if he didn’t have something in him soon, especially with Greg right here, he felt like he was going to overheat. All he wanted to do was turn over and present himself to Greg, but the man was on top of him. He just needed to do something.

“Greg, please, I’m on the pill, you know that. I just want you in me. I want you to knot me and fill me and take me as your mate. I need you.” He knew he was just babbling at this point, but he was desperate and overheated and panting and the pleasure he was feeling was good but not enough. He needed so much more.

Greg kissed his way down Mycroft’s throat as Mycroft babbled and begged, making his smirk around the collarbone that he had to stop to nibble on. God did he love when Mycroft begged. “You know, you said that before,” he grinned devilishly.

Bracing his weight on one arm, he dragged his blunt nails down Mycroft’s chest until he reached a pert nipple. “Told me you were on the pill but that wasn’t the truth, was it?” He bit down on Mycroft’s collarbone as he pinched the nipple with just enough force to make Mycroft gasp but with no intention to actually hurt him.

He licked the red teeth marks then flicked his eyes up to meet Mycroft’s. His smile would rival the Devil himself. “That was very naughty ya know.” He pinched Mycroft’s nipple again and ate up his reactions. So damn gorgeous. “I think I can stand to hear ya beg a bit more for it.” He ground his body hard against Mycroft’s groin to add to the torment and let him feel exactly what he would soon be getting.

Mycroft writhed and squirmed as Greg tormented him, clawing at Greg’s back being all he could do. A whimper escaped his lips at he panted, his eyes squeezed shut. It had only been in the past few days that Greg had discovered exactly what nipple play did to him and Mycroft didn’t know if that was a blessing or a curse.

“Gregory… please.. I would say I made… that I made a mistake, but.. Oh, God… if I hadn’t done it, things would be… so much different, now wouldn’t they…” He managed with a moan, burying his face into Greg’s shoulder. “God, I need you inside of me… Greg, please. I know I should have never… never lied to you, now claim me or I’m going to seriously start considering using toys for the rest of my heat after we bond!”

Mycroft tried to push his hips back, desperately trying to align his wet and needy hole with Greg’s cock and getting frustrated when he couldn’t, digging his fingers into the Alpha’s shoulder. “Gregory, please. I love you and I need you. I need you to claim me, it’s getting too much. I want you to take me as your mate. Please.”

Greg surged up to silent Mycroft with a harsh, biting kiss, afraid that the man’s begging alone was going to be the end of him. When they were both a bit dazed from it, he pulled back onto his haunches and pushed Mycroft’s legs apart. He was still in no great hurry though, letting his eyes rake from Mycroft’s bruised and swollen lips to the marks on his chest. He had enough sense not to let his gaze linger where Mycroft was self-conscious, instead looking straight at his ruddy cock and the wet sheen from his lubrication. Greg licked his lips.

“I think I teased you enough, yeah?” He lifted one of Mycroft’s legs up to plant a kiss to the side of his knee while he took himself in hand to rub the head of his cock against Mycroft’s wet hole. Christ he was so slick, the puckered ring just begging for it. Greg’s teeth grazed over Mycroft’s skin as he started to press in, going slowly enough to savour the feel of Mycroft’s tight body opening around him but any intention to tease was gone the moment he was enveloped by tight, perfect heat.

Mycroft bit his lip, but wasn’t able to hold back a moan as Greg pressed into him, long and thick and perfect, the burn of his muscles stretching delicious. The man threw his head back as the Alpha seated himself inside him completely, clenching tightly around the desired intrusion as Greg slid down to the hilt. Mycroft let out a few soft pants before raising his head again.

The Omega pulled Greg closer, shifting his legs up so that they were around the other man’s hips, pulling him in and adding the friction. He pulled back a little, before pushing forward again, letting Greg know he had adjusted and was ready to start moving, his hands firm on the other man’s shoulders.

Mycroft leaned up and kissed Greg fervently, taking in his heated scent, the rut only making it stronger. He wanted nothing more than for Greg to take and claim him, but he wasn’t going to say anything, even though his mind was telling him to babble Greg’s praise to the world. No, his body could do the talking for now. And to get his point across, he squeezed down around Greg’s cock as their lips slid together.

Greg gasped in Mycroft’s mouth at the maddening constriction that forced him to buck his hips harder than intended. He clenched his hands tight around Mycroft’s shoulders for leverage and snapped his hips deliberately hard the next time he thrust. They could go slow and attempt to take their time later, right then Greg gave up the notion of even trying to be gentle and just _claimed._

“You’re so...” he bit Mycroft’s bottom lip and gave it a bit of a tug before plunging his tongue in Mycroft’s mouth. Their moans mixed with the wet sounds of bodies slapping together as he pounded into Mycroft’s body. “Fucking tight,” he gasped when he ripped his mouth away to capture Mycroft’s ear between his teeth. “You feel so damn good.” He licked the shell of Mycroft’s ear then kissed lower to the man’s neck.

His jaw was aching for the urge to bite and finally cement their bond, but Greg forced himself to wait. He had to get the timing right, wanted this to be perfect for Mycroft. For the both of them. So instead he licked and nibbled at the tense, thick muscle of Mycroft’s neck, buried his nose in the man’s rich scent, but he waited for the perfect moment to bite. Just a little longer...

“Gonna plug you good and tight with my knot, Myc.” Greg’s teeth dragged over the tendons of Mycroft’s neck. “Fill you with my seed right as I bite you.” He nipped just above the shoulder to give Mycroft a little taste. “Bond you so that you’ll never be rid of me.”

“I don’t.. I don’t ever want to get rid of you, Gregory. Never.” Mycroft moaned, gasping like he’d been shocked when Greg stroked over his prostate. His head was leaned back, letting Greg torment his neck with his talented mouth, loving the feeling of the man’s tongue on his skin. The Omega roamed his hands over Greg’s back, his fingers pressing into it with each pleasured noise he released.

Each rough thrust was exquisite, Mycroft’s muscles clenching in a small orgasm achieved from the dual stimulation of penetration and the friction if his cock trapped between their stomachs. Pleasure thrummed through his veins and under his skin, his heart rate jumping every time he felt Greg’s teeth brush over his skin.

In the back of his mind, he found himself hoping that when Greg bit him that it would be somewhere he would be able to hide for public appearances, lower down perhaps where the neck met the shoulder. However, his Omega side seemed set on the opposite, screaming with the hope that Greg would mark him somewhere that all the world could see.

“God yes, fill me, knot me, mark me. Please… Oh, God. Faster. Please Greg. God, I need you. You feel so amazing and I need you so badly.” He blathered, one of his hands sliding up and gripping Greg’s silvery hair and tugging lightly so he could swoop in and kiss Greg deeply, though it didn’t last long, interrupted but a wanton moan. God, he needed Greg’s knot so badly.

“Oh God,” Greg buried his helpless moan into the Omega’s mouth as Mycroft clenched around him. Blinding, shivery pleasure racked every inch of him, pushing him that much closer to the edge. His knot started to inflate at the base of his cock and each push against Mycroft’s body only made the intensity of his need increase. “Oh God, Myc.”

Their mouths clashed brutally, more of a rough press of lips than a proper kiss, broken repeatedly by panting breaths and harsh moans. Mycroft was beautifully pliant beneath him, letting Greg assault his mouth while making the most gorgeous sounds of need. Greg could feel the Omega reaching his peak along with him, knew that they were both just right at that edge; he just needed Mycroft’s body to accept his knot.

“Come on, love,” he groaned in Mycroft’s mouth as he thrust against tight resistance. “Let me in. Come on.” He shifted so he could slide a hand down Mycroft’s body without losing leverage. He thumbed at Mycroft’s nipple to get his body to open for him then reached down to grasp at Mycroft’s knee. He tugged a little higher, opened Mycroft more and felt the Omega’s body start to accept him. It wasn’t going to take much more and soon Greg would sink his teeth in and finally, finally Be Mycroft’s entirely.

Mycroft couldn’t even find words anymore as Greg thrust faster as his knot swelled, bringing Mycroft closer. Each touch and kiss felt like fire on his already heated and sweating skin. The Omega’s fingers were leaving red marks on Greg’s flesh as he panted and moaned, all reasonable thought having been wiped from his mind by sheer pleasure

So when Greg pulled his leg up, Mycroft almost cried as the friction increased, the changed angle causing Greg’s cock to ram into his prostate. The elder Holmes barely registered what the other man had said, his fingers tightening in Greg’s hair, his lips tasting Greg’s skin, salty with sweat and perfect in every way.

Still, his body seemed to know what to do when he felt Greg’s knot pressing against his resisting muscles, relaxing him slowly to accept the bulging knot. The Omega moaned deeply, the rising anticipation of bonding growing with his impending release, a fierce heat coiling in his gut as he got closer, just needed Greg’s knot finish. Instinctively, he leaned his head back, his neck bared just as he felt the thick base of Greg’s cock slip inside as it sealed them with a white heat.

Greg dissolved into ecstasy and instinct when his knot finally pushed past the ring of muscle, locking them together. As his orgasm ripped through him, the only act he was capable of doing was honing in on to the sweet, bared throat of his Omega and biting down hard. It was _rapture_ , the connection that shot through him like a current, ringing a scream from his throat and a stronger pulse from his cock as he spilled his seed inside Mycroft. His _mate._

That knowledge alone caused a second, stronger climax to tear through him and he blacked out for a bit with Mycroft’s flesh still between his teeth. The tang of copper on his tongue was the last thing he was aware of for a while.

Mycroft was completely overwhelmed, a strangled cry of pain and pleasure ripped from his throat as Greg bit down hard, his teeth actually sinking down into the flesh, Mycroft climaxing more intensely than he ever had as Greg’s knot split him apart. It was glorious and it hurt and his body had no idea what to do.

And then it just went blank, only a single thought in his mind. He and Greg were bonded. They were mates for life, tied together by a strong biological bond, made stronger by their love for one another. It was perfect.

Eventually, it was the pain that brought him back, Greg’s teeth still clenched in his shoulder and when it came right down to it, it burned and ached and protested and all around hurt. He could feel the stickiness of blood, so it had definitely broken the skin.

If it weren’t for that, he’d probably be content to lie there for hours in bliss, locked together with Greg. He’d actually read that when an Alpha and Omega bonded, the knot tended to last longer, sealing the newly mated pair together for hours. Mycroft blinked, his eyes blurry, before lifting his head slightly with a wince, gently running his hands over Greg’s tattooed back to try to get his attention.

“…Greg?”

Greg came back to himself with a shudder and a groan. He was instantly aware of the tight clench around his knot that locked them together. Then he was aware of blood in his mouth. Guilt made him finally let go of Mycroft’s neck, apologies falling from his lips. “Oh God Myc, I’m so sorry. So sorry love.”

He let go of Mycroft’s leg to wrap his arms around his mate, unprepared for the shock of pleasure when Mycroft shifted to put his leg down. He whispered against his mate’s shoulder as the change in position pulled a weak orgasm from him, pumping his over sensitive cock. He was completely helpless against the onslaught, capable only of holding on and waiting out to intensity of the pleasure/ pain from the climax.

When he stopped trembling he dragged his tongue over the marks he created. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so carried away.” He kissed the sore marks, aware of the pain he had caused Mycroft though also instinctively aware of how much Mycroft was soothed when Greg slid his hand through Mycroft’s sweat damp hair to cup the back of his neck to provide comfort and to anchor them both. It took him a moment to realise the connection that bonding gave them and it hit him like a lorry.

They were bonded, truly bonded. He and Mycroft were _mates._ Love and gratitude washed through him and when another orgasm struck him he barely even cared how it affected his wrung out body. They were mates now, proper mates and nothing else mattered right that moment. He didn’t know the words to describe how wonderful that was.

Mycroft blinked, not sure of what to think as Greg just seemed to open up to him once the man came around. It was so easy to tell how the Alpha felt bad about hurting him, even before the apologies left his lips. He didn’t realise it would be like this.

His shoulder still throbbed though, despite the shiver that went through him as he watched and felt Greg climax within him again, his own body pulling Greg’s seed from him, even though this time, there was no egg to fertilise. The Omega carefully rubbed his Alpha’s back and shoulders, ignoring his own pain.

“It’s fine Gregory..” He murmured with a soft smile once Greg seemed settled, the two of them lying out, locked together. “You were supposed to do that. It’s really all right.” He assured his new mate, letting out a long breath as Greg pulled him closer, the pair settling against one another. He could almost feel the sheer love and joy Greg was experiencing in that moment, likely realising the magnitude of the event.

Still, there was an ache in his arse also bothering him a little, but his shoulder was his top priority. In fact he was fairly sure he had bled on the sheets a little before Greg started licking him clean.

“Actually… it’s always good to be prepared.. I stocked my dresser drawer with some bandages and antiseptic before we started trying to trigger my heat just in case… So if you think you can reach it, you’re at a better angle…” It wasn’t the most romantic thing to be doing after something so intense and wonderful and overwhelming, but it was needed. Once he was cleaned up a little, they could rest and properly bask in the newness and awe of their bond.

Nodding compliantly, Greg kissed Mycroft’s shoulder before blindly reaching into the bedside drawer. He couldn’t risk much movement than that since it seemed that Mycroft so as much as wriggled his toes and it set Greg off. He didn’t remember being that sensitive last time but then again panic had set almost the moment he finally grew some sense. Right then, there was no panic or shame. Everything felt absolutely right.

Finally he managed to fish out the supplies he needed but applying them in that position was not going to work. He dropped the plasters and antiseptic on the bed then placed his forehead on Mycroft’s shoulder. “Gonna pull you up into a sitting position. Just follow my lead. Once I get you cleaned up we can lie on our sides and ride this out,” he mumbled.

Truthfully, he didn’t want to move until another wave hit them and they became slaves to hormones and pheromones, but he wasn’t going to forgive himself for how hard he bit his mate, hard enough for blood to still be welling up. So he would set things right even if he was already dreading the change in position when he knew he wasn’t quite spent yet.

The Omega patiently waited for Greg to get the supplies, enjoying his warmth and the closeness and trying to focus on that and not the pain. That is, until he turned his head a little to see that there was in fact a rather unfortunate red blotch on his sheets by his shoulder. He couldn’t help but sigh a little. Blood was always such a pain to get out of fabrics.

When Greg spoke, Mycroft could tell that his mate was reluctant to move. They were both overworked and sensitive sexually, Greg still in the grips of his body trying to breed with Mycroft as much as possible and still suffering from multiple climaxes. To a Beta, it probably didn’t sound that bad of a fate, but then, Betas didn’t climax 3 to 7 times within a span of fifteen minutes. For Greg, it was likely exhausting.

“All right. I’ll try not to jostle us too much. I can tell you’re a little over sensitive right now.” He replied, carefully bracing himself so Greg could pull them up. It was still an awkward attempt, Mycroft wincing, not from pain but apology when he was unable to stop himself from clenching around Greg’s cock as he sat, knowing the man was currently on a hair trigger.

As comfortable as possible in that position, braced against a pile of pillows, Greg allowed himself a moment of rest. He was completely drained but his body wasn’t finished yet trying to breed his mate. It was more exhausting that time, now that they were bonded. No matter what form of contraceptive they used, his Alpha instincts were to breed and that was only strengthened by the bond. There was no way of getting out of that.

But finally the latest climax subsided and Greg could catch his breath again. He placed a kiss on the side of Mycroft’s neck before moving back as far as their locked bodies allowed and gathered up the supplies again. He darted forward to give Mycroft a quick, soft kiss before inspecting the wound.

With the bedside lamp on and daylight streaming through the window, he saw the mark perfectly and had the grace to wince. It was livid, red and angry with small dots of blood from where his canines had pierced through. There was already some purpling and the skin around the mark was inflamed. He really must not have held back. “Jesus, I’m still really sorry,” he grumbled and hopped to cleaning Mycroft up as gently as he could.

“Gregory, I said it’s fine. You had to pierce the skin and-” Mycroft winced as Greg dabbed his shoulder with antiseptic, closing his eyes and trying to breath. It was just a sting, but he was already physically overwhelmed and still had a light fever, so it just felt like a lot. Eventually he regained his composure though, letting his mate tend to his wound. “You had to pierce the skin and a certain amount of force is required to do that. What matters is that we’re bonded now.”

The man bit his lip as the bite mark was dressed. He knew the mark would probably scar, but that was rather the point. For the rest of his life, he would have a physical reminder of being bound to the man he loved. And he found he was actually okay with that.

Many moons ago he had scoffed at people being proud of their bond marks, finding the idea of people going so far as to having to scar their partner for life to bond with them impractical and foolish. Now, even though it hurt, he understood the appeal. It wouldn’t just be a scar, it meant something. It physically, biologically connected him to Greg with an intense strength. While he couldn’t outright feel what Greg was feeling, he was aware of him. A wall that he hadn’t even known existed had been taken down between them. And it felt wonderful.

Greg kissed the plaster gently once he finished cleaning and covering the bite. It shouldn't get infected but it still had to hurt like a bitch. Not that he had any regrets though, so as long as Mycroft didn't. It meant that they were bonded now, and that meant everything.

"I'm still gonna fuss," he said as he looked up at Mycroft. Greg's breath caught a little at the sight of his mate flushed and dishevelled, gorgeously so. He brushed Mycroft's hair back from his face then leaned forward for a lazy, tired kiss.

They were both exhausted and covered in sweat among other bodily fluids, could use a shower and a change of bedding, but being locked together meant there wasn't much they could do. But Greg wasn't complaining. He liked the closeness, the intimacy. He was going to enjoy it while he could before Mycroft's heat turned them back into frenzied, rutting animals.

“Yes of course you are…” Mycroft murmured with a soft smile, sighing against Greg’s lips as he gently rested his hands on the Alpha’s waist. It was close and warm and perfect, even with the various aches and pains. He was connected to Greg now, both as mates and physically locked together. It was.. It was good. Very good.

After a moment, he carefully pulled them down again so they could get comfortable, this time being cautious so to not tug at Greg’s knot too hard. Greg was actually more on his chest then on their sides, but it was comfortable enough. Somehow he thought trying to be on their sides would just be awkward and restrict blood flow to various limbs.

“Comfortable?” He asked softly once they were settled, running his fingers through Greg’s damp, silvery hair before his fingers slid down to cup the man’s neck. While he knew the bite marks were something to fret over, they both had just had an extremely intense experience and Mycroft wanted to take Greg into consideration too.

Feeling like Mycroft's pet more than a mate and not giving a good damn, Greg pushed into Mycroft's touch before nuzzling his nose against Mycroft's neck. He was careful of the bite mark but he couldn't resist scenting Mycroft and smelling _them._

"Oh, I'm plenty comfortable," he rumbled contently against Mycroft's neck while he ran his hands up and down Mycroft's back. "How 'bout you?" Sure he was sore and could use a nap but he was also hell-bent not to miss a moment of that. He placed a kiss right over the bite then went back to burying his nose where Mycroft's pheromones were the strongest.

It was more than just the bite that tied them together. Wherever they went, together or not, they would always smell like bonded mates, carrying a unique scent that was like a combination of both of their pheromones. He absolutely loved the idea of smelling a bit like Mycroft wherever he went and people would know without a doubt who he was going home to every night. (Or when possible.)

“A bit sore in more than one place, but otherwise perfect.” Mycroft replied, taking a long, deep breath before settling completely, his muscles finally relaxing comfortably around Greg’s cock and taking some of the ache away. Now they could just relax as they waited for Greg’s knot to go down, maybe have a cool shower together once they could pull apart, because while the sex had helped immensely, Mycroft was still warm, his skin flushed.

The elder Holmes rubbed the man’s shoulders, letting his new mate scent him with a smirk. Their scents would be a combination now and while Mycroft would still have to mask it for his work, that didn’t mean he wasn’t proud of it. He and Greg were imprinted on each other for life and that in itself was powerful.

“So… This is what having a bondmate is like.” He said with a sigh, smiling up at the ceiling for a moment. “It’s not actually what I expected, but I’m actually glad for that. It’s much more intimate than I ever imagined. I can… feel you in a way, if that makes sense. It could just be that my brain is a little overheated.” Mycroft ran his fingers carefully over Greg’s skin, barely touching him, occasionally tracing over scars and marks when he found them. There was so much of his mate’s body that he wanted to explore and looked forward to doing so for their many prospective years together.

Greg chuckled against Mycroft’s shoulder. “No, I feel it too. I think this is normal. Though might fade a bit, I dunno.” He pulled back with a stifled yawn that was quickly replaced by a tired grin. He could finally feel his body start to cool down now that he was thoroughly spent. Wouldn’t be much longer until they could separate but he wasn’t in a hurry like last time and his body apparently knew this.

“So you never even thought of what it would be like, did you? To be bonded? I know with your job it wasn’t a practical thought, but didn’t you ever wonder what it would be like? Even when I was with Susan I still had to wonder. You see bonded pairs all over the place, low divorce and adultery rates. Tends to make me wonder if the hype was all true, you know? And what made it so damn different. I’m definitely seeing the difference.”

“I did when I was younger, but sadly, it wasn’t out of interest, but fear. While I was growing up, it’s what drove me to being what I am today. I suppose when I thought of being bonded, I thought of being tied to an Alpha almost against my will should my parents ever match me with someone. That a bond would be a sort of shackle, never allowing me to leave my Alpha, expected to have children for the rest of my life…” Mycroft sighed, his eyes soft and sad.

“A rather grim outlook, I realise, but it was how I was raised. As I got older, I suppose I realised that it didn’t always have to be that way, that there were many Alpha/Omega couples that were bonded out of love. But at that point, I had taken my own path and just wasn’t interested… but..” Mycroft lifted a hand and gingerly touched his bandaged shoulder. “While it does hurt, I don’t regret this…”

Mycroft let out a long breath and smiled, his hand back on Greg’s head to run his fingers through his hair. “You’ve changed my opinion about a lot of things, love, or at least what’s important, and for that, I thank you…” Mycroft shifted a little, his mind wandering in the warm bliss they were sharing. “We should probably get registered as bonded once my heat is over. I’d rather get it done sooner than later to be honest; with all the fuss it is to get hospital visitation rights when you aren’t registered. Not that I intend to be there anytime soon, but just in case.”

Greg rubbed his thumb over the edge of the bandage in careful, absentminded swipes. “I thought I was going to do some serious harm to that nurse, you know. I get the importance of all that bureaucratic bull, I do, but taking me away from you in the middle of labour was just bloody stupid. And had I not left...” Greg closed his eyes and rested his head against Mycroft’s shoulder. He still couldn’t believe how close he’d come to losing Mycroft and Anna. If he had been just seconds late...

“I didn’t tell you did I, that I had sensed something was off? I was still in the middle of all that damn paperwork when I just knew something was wrong. I don’t know how to explain it, it’s not like we were bonded then, but I just knew. I left in the middle of signing the papers with that damn nurse yelling at me and all but charged into the room. I didn’t think, just knew my mate was in trouble.” He looked up at Mycroft then, shifting enough so that they were more at eye level despite the ache in his thighs and back it caused.

“And even then, to me, that’s what you were. My mate. This,” he swiped his thumb over the edge of the bandage. “Is just a formality. I have always respected you, Myc. Since the first day we met I knew you were someone to keep on my radar. And in those three piece suits of yours, of course I thought you were gorgeous. Over time that developed into more than just a passing attraction. But I was married and you married to your work, so I didn’t act on it. Then that day where you completely blindsided me.”

Greg broke off with a chuckle, shaking his head a bit. The four months between losing control in the panic room to finding out Mycroft was pregnant, all he thought about was Mycroft. A few times he had even thought about gaining the courage to just ask the man out. Things were just meant to work differently, he supposed.

“I was mad that you tricked me, ‘course I was. I’m still going to point out every chance I get to remind you that things like that are just not on! But, I don’t regret it. I don’t regret this, us, any of it. I know it makes me sound like such a sap, but I’m the happiest I’ve ever been and I love you so damn much, Myc.”

“Hm… Interesting.” Mycroft murmured as Greg explained how he had felt something was wrong when Cooper was about to try to kill him in the hospital. “Perhaps a bond can be formed, even without biology involved? For example, a bonded pair that became with little love between them has a weaker bond than a bonded pair that loves each other, that much is for sure. Perhaps it’s two separate things. And Alpha and Omega rarely go very long without bonding physically, like we just have, after being sure that they love one another. Perhaps a different bond forms similar to the physical one that is driven by pure emotion.”

Mycroft paused, realising he was sounding almost exactly like Sherlock when the man got into one of his scientific explanations. It was still an interesting thought that perhaps should be looked into, but for the time being, it wasn’t the place. “But, for whatever reason, I’m glad you could tell something was wrong. As horrible as it is to think about, we wouldn’t be laying here, Anna safely with your mother if you hadn’t.”

The Omega sighed, his features then softening. “Though you don’t need me to tell you I was mostly in denial for a good part of our time together. I loved you, but I was just too blind to see it. And in that hospital room, clinging to you for dear life as I painstakingly pushed our daughter into the world, I only saw you as my mate. I was also telling the truth when I said I think we may have become mates if biology had allowed it. Mainly because it felt like we already were. And now…” Mycroft trailed off for a moment, smiling as he let the warmth of his fever lull him.

“Now I know a happiness I never even knew existed, after all we’ve been through. I love you more than I ever thought possible, so if you’re being a sap, than it seems I’m being even more of one.”

Greg didn’t have anything to add to that so he leaned in and captured Mycroft’s lips in a heartfelt kiss. It was amazing that after all that dancing around each other they did that they got there at all, but in hindsight he felt like they were exactly where they were meant to end up. As Mycroft said, there had already been something between them before Greg sealed it all with a bite. Now it was that much stronger. It was incredible.

Of all the things Mycroft Holmes thought would come from trying to fulfil his duty to his family, this was most definitely not one of them. But somehow he doubted he would ever have had such foresight in the first place. He was no longer just content with his life, but truly happy with it. Now, in his middle age, he had had a whole different perspective of the world open up to him. He knew what it was to be truly loved and cherished and to love and cherish in return. He was the mate to the man he had come to love and a father to their beautiful daughter. This was his life now. And never had it been so perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it folks. Thank you all so much for reading. It's been a journey. And, with luck, there will be more to come in the future, so keep your eyes peeled. Thanks to all of you. You've been wonderful.


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